Haunting Dreams and Nightmares
by Trick N. Zwei
Summary: The Hunters of Yharnam have managed to cooperate and finish the endless hunt. In a certain Hunter's Dream they gathered for one final battle. It ends in their victory, and they wait for the dream to end. Upon awakening they find themselves in a world much similar to their own. With this revelation, they continue to hunt the monsters of this world.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I make no claims of owning Bloodborne or Claymore, only the OC that appear in this fanfic. Don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

 **The overall strength of which characters are stronger are scaled or changed completely to fit with my plans for this fic so it will not be completely accurate in most cases with combat and such from the Bloodborne game or Claymore manga.**

 **This fic is set after the end of the Claymore manga storyline.**

 **The Bloodborne Hunter that is featured in this chapter is also NOT** **the main Hunter of the** **game. He's just a Yahrnamite Hunter and one of the many Hunters that is planned for this fic. This crossover does not have any fixed main characters that it will focus on and may jump around to various people.**

 **Hope you enjoy it, as short as it is.**

 **Edit as of 6/12/16: This is no longer designated as a oneshot. It will be a series that will be updated less than my main fic.**

* * *

Five years have passed since the Claymores liberated their island world from the machinations of The Organization. Since then, they have worked long and hard to wipe out the remnants of their former Masters along with any Yoma and Awakened Beings they could find. For the first several years, they had succeeded in doing so. Ushering a time of peace afterwards for a time.

But now… now there has been a surge of Yoma appearing once more across their entire world.

The Claymores fought back with ferocity against the endless numbers of new Yoma, but they are getting overwhelmed. They can't be everywhere to fight back the monsters, and the people are perishing by the hundreds because of it. More and more, innocents are dying left and right to the Yoma with not a hint of it stopping or slowing down. Soon, the inhabitants of this island world will all meet the same fate, with probably only the surviving ones close to the Claymore stronghold in The Holy City Rabona.

Fortunately, with the appearance of this many Yoma, comes the arrival of new predators.

A Hunter stirs from his sleep. Slowly, his eyes opens to the bright rays of sunlight that shone down on his face. He found himself feeling still half-asleep and slightly dazed as he looks at the crystal clear blue sky high above him. He had never seen the sky so beautiful like it is right now. Never had he seen it so bright, so vibrant, and so… peaceful.

"…So is this how the dream ends?" he whispered.

Such a picturesque ending that was quite a popular thought with what most thought what it would be like. And yet, it somehow made the Hunter feel a little melancholy about the whole thing. He mused to himself that perhaps he had really just wanted something else. His thoughts drifted to everything he's been through and all of the things that ended along with the dream. Such dreary and dull thoughts plagued him as he laid there under the bright sun. But those thoughts were soon washed away by something.

A familiar scent drifted towards him.

It calls to him... It sings to him... It causes the blood in his veins to rush with fervor!

He smiled.

"It looks like it hasn't ended completely," he said as he stood up and his hands gripped tightly the tools most intimate to his trade. "We have new game, ladies and gentlemen. It's time… for another hunt!"

Bodies all around him that were sleeping on the ground, same as he had, stirred as they heard his voice and smelled the same thing as he did. One by one they staggered up on their feet, slowly but surely, holding their own tools tightly in their hands. They breathed in the fresh air around them deeply and opened their eyes, completely wide and awake, after picking up on the scent that lingered in it. Most smiled, same as he did. The others, were stoic but the weapons in their hands were rigid from the tightness of their grip on them. Then there were some that started to cackle madly from excitement.

There was only one thing in their mind at that moment.

"Let's see who can get first blood?"

And with that comment from the first to wake, they bolted off towards the direction of their prey.

…The Hunters of Yahrnam have joined the hunt!

* * *

"Galatea!"

Miria walked briskly after opening the door to the former #3 Claymore turned nun and official liaison between the people of their island world and the Claymores. Galatea had done a great service to them, blind as she was, by handling all the reports of Yoma coming in from all over the island so that Claymores could be dispatched to destroy them.

They were in Galatea's room inside the stronghold constructed to be their new home at the center of Rabona. A large fortress that housed all of the surviving warriors and trainees that acted as their main base of operations as well as their sanctuary.

"I heard there was a surge of Yoma that had been troubling the south a week ago," Miria said anxiously. She had only arrived back from the east after exterminating some Yoma when she had heard the townsfolk gossiping about the situation in the south. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I can take Dietrich and Anastasia with me. If we leave now we can—"

Galatea cut off Miria calmly. "There is no need."

"…What?" asked Miria in confusion. "Did we have anyone else available to send? I thought most of us were already sent to the west." She remembered clearly that there was no one to spare to deploy from Rabona so she found it odd that they had warriors left to aid the south so quickly.

Dietrich, who had been standing beside Galatea, handed her the report that she just read out to their blind companion.

Miria furrowed her brow, curious about what could be on it. As she read the report, her eyebrows notched further down and she frowned at the information on it. She looked up to the faces of her comrades after she finished reading the entire thing.

"What is this…?" she asked.

"Just as it says," said Galatea. "The south is no longer in danger of being destroyed by Yoma. A good thing, is it not?"

"That is not what I meant!" shouted Miria. "This!" she said as she shook the report in her hand. "It mentions strange people that appeared and started slaughtering the Yoma, disguised or not. You know full well that ordinary people are not able to do such a thing!"

She was angry, rightly so. Because the only ones with the means to combat such a large number of creatures were the Claymores or Yoma themselves. The only other ones she could think of would be the people from the mainland, something she was almost sure of, considering there were no one else capable of producing Yoma. They had already suspected that the people from the mainland would never just leave them be.

Miria reigned in her frustration.

"It's them, isn't it," she said, more as a statement. "Their trying to establish another organization the same as before. They've made a new generation of warriors and are trying to establish the south as their new domain this time."

Galatea's blind eyes looked directly into Miria's own eyes. "That is a very large possibility," she said. "We can't be so sure of it but the increase of Yoma is most certainly their doing. But establishing another organization that hunts down the same creatures they created? That seems a little counterproductive, wouldn't you say?"

"Wouldn't be the first time they've done so," pointed out Miria.

Galatea closed her eyes and nodded at this. "Yes, but not when everyone already knows their true nature," she said. "I see no benefit in them doing this. If anything, it will actually give us more room to breathe with the current situation." Miria gritted her teeth because she couldn't refute that. "They only needed a few more years, and they would have won with a war of attrition at the rate things have been going."

It was information they hadn't shared with the others, but Miria was sure that more than a few have most likely come to the same conclusion. There was simply too many Yoma for the Claymores, and the people are suffering for it.

They did not want to force the trainees to live the same lives as they do, but all of the trainees volunteered anyway. The problem was that most of them have not matured enough to fight on the same level as the rest of them yet.

"They are still the most likely ones in the south," said Miria.

"Perhaps," admitted Galatea. "But we cannot be sure until we see it for ourselves."

Before they could talk further, a knock on the door came. Dietrich went over to answer it. One of the young trainees came by and handed over another report.

After bidding the trainee goodbye, Dietrich opened up the report.

"That time may come sooner than we thought," she said as she read report in her hands. "Cynthia's group is pursuing a group of Yoma that had fled to the south with a few children." Miria and Galatea were wide-eyed at that. "At the direction they are going, they are bound to arrive at a town that the Yoma had been assaulting a while back."

"Then most likely they will encounter these new warriors," said Miria, clearly unhappy with the situation. "I'm leaving," she declared as she turned away from Galatea and made for the door. "Send any of us available there as soon you are able."

Galatea nodded in agreement.

* * *

In a dense forest, three silver-eyed women ran at an amazing speed. They maneuvered past the trees and roots that covered the forest floor with ease, never once slowing down their pace.

It was a fact that Claymore's are not so easily fatigued due to their half-human half-yoma nature. That was probably the only reason why Cynthia was still able to continue running in pursuit of the small number of Yoma that she and her group had been tracking relentlessly for several days now.

Still, all of the Claymores have been stretched thin from the endless hordes of Yoma that continued to pop up all over the land. She knew that it was most likely due to the mainland's efforts to stomp them out and take back control of the island world. Nevertheless, she and the others will not give in that easily.

"Wait," she commanded the others, forcing their group to halt their pursuit. "I don't know why, but they've stopped." She could feel the presence of the Yoma ahead of them.

"Are they trying to ambush us?" said Audrey in an amused tone. "That's a bold move even if they do have hostages. They aren't even Awakened Being's and they think they can really take us on?"

Cynthia closed her eyes and began sensing for the Yoma more clearly. "I don't think that's it," she said. "Their yoki are spiking a little. I think they must have encountered something." After a moment, she opened her eyes wide with surprise. "T-they're disappearing," she stuttered. "I think something's killing them!"

The sound of a loud bang echoed throughout the forest ahead of them where the Yoma are. It was an unfamiliar sound to them.

"Let's go!" yelled Audrey, already running ahead. "We have to save the children!"

Cynthia and the others scrambled quickly to catch up to Audrey. One after the other, Cynthia could sense the yoki of the Yoma getting snuffed out. She worried for the safety of the children the Yoma had taken, but she was also worried about Audrey who was considerably farther ahead of them.

As they quickly approached the location where the last of the yoki vanished, she and the others could hear the clang of metal hitting metal.

Once they broke through the dense tree, they saw Audrey facing off against a tall man garbed in clearly foreign make. The man was attired strangely. He wore a buttoned down leather coat with gloves and trousers to match. The trifold hat he wore was also something not seen in their lands, and the small leather cape that completely covered his face, besides the small slit that showed his eyes, was quite suspect. The strangest of all though, were the items he wielded on his left and right hand.

In his right hand, he held the handle of a rather large slightly curved saw. And on his left hand, a stick like tube made of metal and wood that they didn't recognize at all.

The man's eyes that were on Audrey, drifted towards them. Cynthia could see curiosity in those eyes that scanned them quietly. For a moment, those eyes stopped briefly on her and looked somewhat disquieted, but they returned to its previous tone just as quickly.

"So there are Hunters in this land," said the man, more to himself than to the women. "I was starting to wonder how these beasts haven't wiped out the people here yet."

Close to the man, the Claymores could see the torn and shredded corpses of the Yoma they had been pursuing. A generous amount of blood pooled on the ground where the corpses bled. One of the corpses seemed perfectly intact, aside from the smoking hole on its temple.

"Who are you?!" demanded Audrey. "Are you another warrior from The Organization?"

"A warrior?" the man asked, tilting his head slightly at the word. "This would be the first time I've heard of such a way to refer to a Hunter. How very strange." He looked at them once more, before saying, "And if I were a part of the organization you speak of, what would you do?"

Cynthia couldn't see the man's entire face, but those eyes of his were clearly lit with bright amusement. She felt slightly confused since she could clearly sense no yoki or malice coming from him. And yet, there was something about him that made her feel as if he was similar to them.

"We told them we will destroy anything they send our way," Cynthia answered seriously. "Now, answer us. Are you part of The Organization?"

"If I am to answer, then may I ask for the name, at least, of who I am speaking to?" the man asked politely back. "My name is Isaiah Kimble." With weapons in hand, he bowed curtly. "Would the beautiful lady care to bestow this humble Hunter her name?"

Cynthia could not tell why he would need to ask for her name but she didn't see the harm in giving it. "I am Cynthia, the former #14 of the 132nd generation," she answered simply, only giving the basics of respects back. "I gave you my name so keep your word and answer what we had asked. Are you from The Organization?"

The Hunter took a few moments before answering.

"Why, yes," he stated without a care. "Yes, I am."

Not wasting anymore time, Audrey dashed forward towards the Hunter and swung down her claymore without hesitation. The man intercepted the blow with his saw cleaver. As their blades were locked trying to overpower one another, the Hunter aimed his pistol directly at Audrey's head.

"Move your head, Audrey!" cried out Cynthia quickly.

It was a good call. Because as soon as Audrey did so, with a loud bang, the gun fired its quicksilver round, grazing her cheek instead of burying into her head. She quickly broke away from the Hunter and stood back beside her comrades.

"Hey, Hey," said Minerva. "What the hell was that?!"

"Be careful. It looks like that weapon is capable of firing projectiles at fast speeds," Cynthia explained as she remembered what happened. "That's probably the same thing that killed that Yoma over there." She pointed towards the Yoma with a hole in its head.

The Hunter seemed a little bemused by their reactions.

"You've never seen or heard of a firearm before?" he asked curiously. "No, it looks like you haven't." The looks the women gave him seems to have answered for him. "Same as the rest of the people of this land so it would seem. Very strange indeed."

He walked slowly towards the Claymores.

"I'm still curious to know more about you though," said the man before promptly launching himself towards the three women. The serrated edge of his saw cleaver came down on Cynthia but was blocked by her own weapon. "I can tell that you are all quite strong," he said with his covered face close to Cynthia's. "Show me more, will you?"

Isaiah sidestepped the blade that threatened to slice his arm off. He fired his pistol at Minerva in return and had quickly taken his saw cleaver to intercept the next blade coming from Audrey. To his surprise though, the moment his blade came into contact with Audrey's, his saw cleaver was deflected to the side. That had almost lost him his head, if not for him taking a quick step back.

He wasn't left unharmed by the action though. His shoulder had a very nasty gash where the claymore had sliced him. He took notice of it but didn't appear to be all that concerned of the wound. The technique Audrey used seemed to have interested him more.

"That was a very splendid move," he said, sounding genuinely impressed. "It would certainly had cost me my life had I been a moment too late."

Contrary to him, Cynthia had a troubled look on her face. "You…" she said, sounding unsure. "Are you suppressing your yoki?"

"Yoki?" questioned the Hunter. "I am sorry but I am unfamiliar with the term."

"Don't lie to us!" shouted Minerva furiously as she held tightly on to her claymore with both hands. "You're half-yoma like us, aren't you? How can you not know what yoki is?"

"Yoma… those beasts I killed?" said Isaiah. "Certainly, like all Hunters, I too have the beast's blood running through my veins." He chuckled lightly to himself a bit. "The people themselves don't have a problem calling us the same as the beasts we hunt. And yet, this is the first time I've ever heard of yoki."

His answer did not make much sense to the Claymores aside from confirming that he was probably half-yoma like themselves. They can't really fathom how he was able to find any Yoma at all without knowing what yoki is.

"But enough of this idle chatter," dismissed the Hunter as he flicked his saw cleaver to its extended form and locked it with a click. "Did you not say that you needed to destroy me?" His voice clearly showed his amusement of that.

"You're underestimating us," stated Cynthia with slight annoyance.

"Believe me, I am not."

The Hunter and the Claymores clashed together once more. Blades collided and the sound of a gun resounded throughout the entire battle, if it can even be called that. Only the man kept receiving injuries upon injuries with each time the women attacked him, while the women were left pretty much intact. The Claymores had little problem with closing in on Isaiah in a short bit of time. The Hunter had put up a good fight, as outnumbered as he was. But ultimately, he lost as Cynthia's sword finally pierced him through his chest, causing him to kneel down and drop the weapons in his hands.

The Claymores finally took a deep breath after seeing that the battle was finally over.

"You fought well." Cynthia admitted honestly to the limp body of the man in her blade. She was very impressed how the man had continued to fight without any signs of giving up even after receiving wound after wound and the relentless assault of her and the others. "Maybe under different circumstances, we could have been allies that fought Yoma side by side," she said as she remembered the false reason The Organization gave them so that they would willingly serve.

"…If it's with you, I think I would find that very pleasant."

Cynthia tried to pull her blade back from the Isaiah's torso but she was too late. The Hunter's hands grabbed her own strongly and further impaled himself on the blade to quickly come face to face with her. She should have known to take off his head if she wanted to kill him but the lack of yoki made it hard to determine if he wasn't already dead.

"Since I'm already dying, I might as well take something with me," said Isaiah closely to Cynthia.

Without any hesitation whatsoever, he pulled himself on the blade with one hand, removed the covering on his face with the other and… kissed her on the lips, surprising the Claymore and the other two on her side who were about to hack the man's head off. After that short moment, what felt like an eternity, the Hunter broke away from the kiss.

"I'll see you in my dreams…" he spoke softly and lovingly as his hand caressed Cynthia's cheek dearly.

Before the women could get over their surprise, the man's body disintegrated into motes of light, vanishing right before the stunned expressions of the Claymores. There wasn't a single trace of Isaiah Kimble, not even the weapons he had dropped on the ground. The only thing left was the warm taste of his lips on Cynthia's own.

The one to break the silence after was Minerva, who was still had her Claymore mid-swing in an attempt to behead something no longer there.

"…What just happened?"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I'm glad I finally got this out of my system. I was supposed to finish the Korra X FMA oneshot but the arrival of my lovely new Hunter statue had changed that. So I read the entire Claymore manga in 2 days and decided to make this straight afterward. I'm really liking the plans for this one as well.**

 **Also, please note that I have not finished Bloodborne yet because it is being a complete ass and killing me at every single turn. I've killed so many and died so much. I also feel really really bad for not being able to save the girl in the window when I found out I could do so.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I make no claims of owning Bloodborne or Claymore, only the OC that appear in this fanfic. Don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

 **I'm saying this again, things are not entirely canon for this fic. That being said, I may still end up being wrong about things such as who wields what or personal history. You can point those out to me.**

 **Still not going to update this regularly. Only when the muse comes to me.**

* * *

It was fortunate that Cynthia's group were able to find and recover the children completely unharmed after their battle. They quickly went back and returned the children to their respective villages. It was in the last village where they dropped the final child that they had met up with Miria and her team.

They had rented a room at an inn where Cynthia could debrief Miria on what had happened.

Miria listened intently as Cynthia told of her experience on the encounter with the strange man that killed the Yoma they were pursuing. She was at least glad to know that the children had been rescued safely. She surmised that the stranger may have been following the same rule as they had during their time with the organization.

To never kill a human being.

"Is that all?" Miria asked seriously.

"Y-Yes!"

Miria looked curiously at Cynthia who was usually more composed than this. She noted that her comrade was unable to look at her straight and seemed a bit flustered. It felt like she was holding something back from her.

"Cynthia," she said. "Are you sure that's everything that happened?"

There was already plenty of information that Cynthia had provided. From the man's physical abilities to his strange weaponry. And then there was the fact that he had essentially disintegrated upon his death.

Still, more details about him could be vital.

"I've told you everything important," said Cynthia.

Miria sighed. It was all but obvious to her now that her comrade was keeping something from her.

"You know, even smallest thing could be a potential lead for us. Was there anything else that he said before he died?" She glared at Cynthia with utmost intensity as she still looked unwilling to cooperate. "What aren't you telling me?"

"…He kissed me."

"What?"

Cynthia had reddened cheeks as she continued to explain how the man had grabbed her arms in what she had assumed was his final death throes to take her with him. Instead, the man who named himself, Isaiah Kimble, put all his remaining strength into giving her a kiss.

"He looked extremely satisfied after that," said Cynthia, obviously still a bit embarrassed for such a thing to happen to her. "He also mentioned seeing me in his dreams, right before he died, I think."

It was clear now why Cynthia had thought not to mention it.

For a Claymore, it is quite rare for them to be intimate with a man. All of them have been selected at a very young age where they had not even developed such feelings. Their unnatural physical changes such as their hair and eye color are the least of the obvious reasons why men are opposed to even see them as anything more than monsters in the guise of a woman. Although, things have been getting better for them recently because they are no longer treated as monsters for the most part.

"That was your first time, wasn't it," Miria stated as she rubbed her temple because of the building headache she had.

"L-Like I told you, it wasn't anything important," said Cynthia.

"And yet, you're as red as an apple right now," said Miria with an eyebrow raised.

"That's not true!"

Miria sighed at the denial but decided to leave things at that. There was no point in thinking about a dead man's kiss.

"We're leaving," she said as she opened the door of the room, the rest of the Claymores stood in attention at the presence of their leader. "It would be best to prepare yourselves for battle. There is no telling how many of these strangers from The Organization are out there."

Everyone nodded in acknowledgement.

Miria saw that Audrey's cheek was still slightly red where the projectile had grazed her. "It still hasn't healed?"

"It's almost closed up, but it's taking quite a bit longer to heal." Audrey touched the graze on her cheek. "I'll be glad to get Cynthia's help with it before we go."

Miria remembered that the stranger's weapon was what did that. Cynthia had said that the man had called it a firearm. It looks to be a very troublesome tool if you can't heal quickly from getting hit by its projectiles. A shot to the head could also prove fatal, given the example of the dead Yoma they had seen.

"We leave as soon as you're done," said Miria.

Including Cynthia's team, there were seven of them there. Former #6 Miria, Former #14 Cynthia, #3 Audrey, #7 Anastasia, #15 Nike, #24 Minerava, and #31 Phina.

Their destination was the small town of Meninges, a place that had been the target of a vicious assault by Yoma according to the report they received. It was also the closest place to the last known whereabouts of the strangers.

* * *

Miria couldn't sense any Yoki in their immediate vicinity as they arrived in the town. It was too bad that she didn't have to ability to tell if there were any Yoma that had been present there. But then again, she didn't need to.

The air was heavy and thick with the scent of fresh corpses. They littered the streets, strewn about and dismembered in almost every single way imaginable. They weren't human bodies, but that of Yoma. The man-eating creatures were all undoubtedly dead.

"This must be their work," said Audrey as they all walked down the street watching for any signs of movement.

"Be on your guard," ordered Miria. "We can't seem to sense the yoki of these warriors, so we have to look for them the old-fashioned way."

She could feel a few faint traces of Yoma somewhere ahead of them. If these men killed Yoma, then she was sure that they would most likely go after the last few that remained in town.

After walking cautiously at a steady pace towards the town center, they finally heard something different besides them and the dead silence all around them.

 ***Squelch* *Squish***

Some unmistakably disgusting sounds were coming from where Miria had last felt the yoki of Yoma before it disappeared a few moments ago.

They arrived in the middle of the town to the appearance of a tall haggard-looking man slowly tearing the head off a Yoma under his boot with the large axe in his hand.

"…Beasts all over the place," he grumbled as he dropped the Yoma's head to the ground. "We'll kill all of them, sooner or later…"

He turned, and the Claymores all saw the blood drenched bandages of his arms, most likely from the Yoma he's killed. Besides being almost entirely black, his tattered clothing had a similar appearance to the first man Cynthia had described. Only a few articles were different, such as the dingy scarf he wore. The biggest difference would be that his face was uncovered, aside from his hat and the bandages that covered his eyes.

"If you counted on finding more prey here, then you'd best be on your way," he said to the women. "Otherwise, you'll have none left when the others finish chasing them down."

The man was not at all interested, it seems, to see them. He simply dismissed them before turning his back and started walking away.

"Wait!" shouted Miria.

"Hmm?" questioned the man as he glanced back at her. "What is it that you want, woman?"

The way the man had callously disregarded them made some of Miria's comrades reach for their weapons in anger. She held out a hand to stop them from doing so.

"I have some questions for you."

The man turned around and seemed to examine her closely. "You don't seem to be a new Hunter. Although, I must admit that I've never seen your ilk before." He spat on the ground. "Whatever the case be, I've no time for your… _questions_ , especially during a hunt."

"You'll have to make time," Miria said in a threatening tone. She wasn't about to let him brush her off. "I don't think you'll find any more Yoma. There's none of them left in town that I can sense."

"Gahahahaha!" The man laughed freely in his raspy voice. "None left, you say?"

Miria frowned at this. She could tell the old man was obviously mocking her. But as far as she can tell, there were no more Yoma in the entire town. She looked to Cynthia who nodded that she too most likely came to the same conclusion as her.

"I hadn't wanted to share, but can you not feel it?" asked the man with excitement. "It is bubbling slowly towards the surface. It is weak, but it is there nonetheless, growing stronger with each passing second. The smell of their blood is… maddening."

"I think this crazy old guy is just spouting nonsense," said Nike.

"Quiet!" ordered Miria.

She hadn't noticed it before, but she could feel a faint yoki somewhere nearby. It was very weak, but it was slowly building up. How could she and Cynthia have missed it? Unless…

"They were using Yoki suppressants!"

As soon as she declared so, the town tavern two blocks away from them exploded outward as several Awakened Beings seems to have transformed from inside it. A few more appeared in the same manner from a few other buildings.

The man chuckled in amusement. "It looks like I won't be ill satisfied with this many beasts, even if all of you are looking to steal some."

"Are you insane?!" shouted Nike. "There's too many of them!"

Miria agreed with that assessment, even if she didn't voice that out. She would need to coordinate her team if she wanted all of them to get out alive in this situation. This whole town was most likely a trap laid out for when Claymores arrived to clean out the Yoma.

"Everyone, get in formation!" she instructed her comrades.

"Hey! He's heading straight for them!" pointed out Minerva.

The Claymores all turned to watch as the man ran with surprising speed towards a group of small-sized Awakened Beings. With a single stroke of his axe, he decapitated one that looked like a monkey. In the next moment, he used his axe to split another monster's head, right down to its throat.

"Yes… hahaha!" exclaimed the man as he took out his firearm and jammed it down the throat of the last of the group he exterminated. "I can never get enough of this feeling."

As soon as he squeezed the trigger, the back of the Awakened Being's head exploded with a bang, sending pieces of the inside splattered all over the ground.

He was impressive, Miria had to admit. But there were still far too many for him to go around jumping head on like that. He would get overwhelmed by the larger ones soon enough without anyone to watch his back. It wouldn't do for him to die before she could question him, but her people came first.

"Overwhelm and take down the nearest ones, as quick as you can!" she commanded.

The Claymores set off and followed as ordered. Awakened Beings were cut down by their blades. Tough as they were, having too many Claymores to fight will decimate them regardless. All of the Claymores there had plenty of experience fighting many Awakened Beings before, so they made no mistakes in cutting down the enemies before them.

Most of the Awakened Beings were weaker than what Miria and the others have encountered before. She guessed that these were probably new and forcefully awakened by The Organization. Although, there seemed to be a few strong ones mixed in with the rest.

"This is your fault!"

Miria saw some of the stronger ones attacking the man they had met earlier. They cornered him and it looked like the man was not unscathed from their fierce attacks. He knelt down in front of the large monsters due to the wounds he sustained.

"If you hadn't come made a mess of things, we would've had an easier time destroying our targets!" yelled one of the monsters loudly at the man. "Do you have any last words before I pound you into paste?"

"All I can do is pray…" said the man.

"Religious are we, this one?!" a viper like Awakened Being laughed with a hiss. "There are no gods that will answer you. Only we devils can hear your words."

"I don't think he can hear you," said a different monster. "He's too busy saying his last prayers. He won't even look at us. What a coward."

"Pray… pray… pray…"

Miria could see that the man seems to have already given up. A far cry from the other one that Cynthia had described, if he was already saying his final rites just as the monsters said. But she could soon hear his words getting louder rather than weaker.

"Pray… pray… prey…"

The Awakened Beings seems to have had enough of the man's ramblings. "Let's get this over and done with. We still have to kill those Claymores before we can get started on eating," said the largest of them. It moved its stone-like fist into air above the man, intent on crushing him. "Time to say goodbye."

"Prey… prey… PREY!"

In a sudden burst, the kneeling man had transformed into a wolf-like beast and tore his claws into the large one's throat. It grabbed at the Awakened Being's spine and yanked it upwards, breaking it and the head off the body.

"He… He awakened, Miria!" Cynthia said.

Everyone stared at what they thought was the awakened form of the man. The bandages that covered the man's eyes now clung to his snout, and they could see the yellowed eyes of a hungry wolf staring back at them. He snarled and growled as he eyed the larger monsters in front of him.

"Prey…" he said as he licked his jowl.

"Don't get too cocky just because you awakened!"

The viper Awakened Being wrapped itself around the wolf, trying to squeeze him to death. It died quickly when the wolf simply bit its head off. After which, it proceeded to tear into the other monsters in a frenzied bloodlust.

"Great," said Anastasia with a roll of her eyes. "Another one we have to fight."

"At least its killing all the other ones and not us just yet," said Phina.

Miria agreed with that assessment. With the monsters fighting amongst themselves, things looked far better for them, and they could wipe out all of the monsters afterwards.

"Don't let up," she said to her comrades. "Finish off the ones we have and we'll mop up the rest of them over there later."

In a few minutes, the Claymores had already killed all of the Awakened Beings on their side. There were only several Awakened Beings, including the wolf one that was now heavily injured due to fighting so many of the others.

One of the Awakened Beings noticed that Miria and her comrades were now approaching them after finishing the rest of its kind. "Hey, we should run for now," he said to his last comrade. "We're all going to die here if those women get any closer."

The other one nodded and they both proceeded to retreat. Unfortunately for one of them, the wolf was not willing to let go of its prey. It ran on all fours and tackled the fleeing Awakened Being to the ground before clamping its jaws into the neck of its prey and tearing it to shreds.

Miria readied her blade as their group came up to the feasting wolf. They would have to take him down quickly if they want to catch up to the last one.

The wolf stopped from its feast as it sniffed the air and noticed them. "Prey…?" it seemed to growl in question while it sniffed in their direction.

"We will end your suffering soon," Miria replied as she steeled grip on her claymore.

"Prey!" loudly snarled the wolf.

The werewolf and the Claymores charged at each other. But before they could clash, a loud bang echoed throughout the town as a bullet smashed into the werewolf's hind leg and another deflected off of Miria's blade, stopping everyone in their tracks.

Miria's eyes tracked where the projectile came from, and saw the smoking barrel of a firearm held by a blonde woman on a roof. She noticed the similar styled black clothing she wore was the same as the wolf man. Her long blonde hair was braided into a ponytail with a distinct red ribbon tied on the end.

"Well now, I think everyone's had plenty to hunt," said the woman as she still pointed her gun at them. "We don't need to continue with this, now do we, dad?"

The young woman appeared to be talking with the werewolf.

Miria frowned at the newcomer. "He's already awakened; you can't reason with him anymore."

The woman turned her eyes at Miria's group. "While normally that would be the case when letting beast's blood run wild, dad's a bit of a special case." Before Miria could interject, she added while pointing her pistol at her. "Just wait and see."

A soft mechanical tune started playing.

Out of a side alley, a young woman wearing a white outfit came out with a music box in her hand. She looked pretty similar in all aspects to the other except for the color of her clothing and the white ribbon on her ponytail. They looked like they were sisters. Miria noticed that she had a large sword, similar to a claymore, strapped to her back along with a big firearm like the man's. She continued winding the small device that played a pretty little melody.

The werewolf started to back away, a little at a time, as the woman in white got closer to him. With a final howl it fell to its knees and slowly shrank back to the man it once was. He breathed roughly on the earth he collapsed on.

The woman in white put away the music box and ran towards him.

She picked him gently in her arms. "You know you shouldn't have gone too far from us, dad."

"…You two… don't need me to hold your hands now. Just the same as I don't need to hold on to yours," he answered tiredly. "Can't a Hunter hunt in peace these days without his daughters nagging him all the time?"

"And look where that's got you?" smugly replied the black-clothed woman who had jumped down from her perch to join them. "If Alice and I hadn't come along, these Hunters would've killed you." She looked at Miria and her team. "Or you would have killed them…"

"Yes, yes," said the man as his daughter pulled him up to his feet. "I may have let the blood cloud my judgement a little too much. Forgive an old man for indulging in his vices."

"You are… family?" Cynthia asked unsurely. "Blood related?"

As far as Miria and all others knew, there has never been a case where warriors had any familial ties with one another, aside from being sisters. And that was only the case because The Organization needed them to be that way for their experiments in controlling awakenings.

"A bit uncommon, I'm sure," admitted the man. "But a family that hunts together, stays together."

"Well you don't have to be blood related to be family," said the one Miria assumed was Alice. "We consider grandad to be as much a part of our family as any of us."

The woman in black chuckled. "Not that the ancient old coot would care to admit it."

"Shush, Beth."

Miria pointed her swords at them. "I'd like it if you answered my questions now."

The rest of her comrades did much the same. They still have not forgotten the original purpose of their visit to this town.

The black-clothed woman named Beth did not seem to appreciate this. "Looks like someone else is still a little too eager for blood, aren't we?" she said as she pulled out an axe, the same as her father's, from the strap on her back. She slung it on her shoulder as she gripped the pistol with her left hand.

"One of the Awakened Beings fled, and I would like to catch it before it gets away," said Miria.

Beth smiled viciously. "If you're talking about the one I just saw before coming here, then I've already taken its head off."

Miria could see the fresh blood that dripped down the axe she held. "Then we don't have to rush things."

"Questions, questions, questions," complained the man. "Hunters these days always seem to ask too many of them. What is there to ask? A Hunter hunts down its prey, what's more there is to know?"

"A man dressed in similar clothing to yours said that he worked for The Organization," stated Miria. "I want to know, are you also working for them?"

She was fairly sure that these people didn't, since the Awakened Beings seemed to have not been aware of them. The monsters had even gone so far as to try and kill the man because of how he had messed up their trap.

"Someone like us, you say?" Beth said with narrowed eyes.

"He said his name was Isaiah Kimble," answered Cynthia.

"…And where is this man now?"

Before Miria could say anything, Minerva answered.

"We killed him."

Miria swerved to the right as she was almost cleaved down by an axe.

"Vilebloods, all of you!" shouted Beth as she aimed her pistol at Miria's head. She fired, and the bullet pierced its target. Only the target vanished after a moment.

Miria appeared behind Beth and swung her sword aiming for the neck. It was blocked by the unsheathed blade of Alice.

"As crass as she can be at times, I'd like it if you kept your hands off my sister."

Alice fired her blunderbuss at Miria.

Her phantom technique didn't prove very effective against the wide spread shot of a Hunter's blunderbuss. She staggered a little bit after taking some of it to her shoulder. The wound was small compared to most others she'd taken before, but it was unexpectedly painful.

That was all the time Beth needed to take another swing at her head.

Luckily for Miria, Audrey and Cynthia backed her up. The two intercepted the axe.

Miria saw as the two counter attacked the sisters. Her comrades were strong, but the two they faced were no slouches either.

They danced in a flurry of exchange between the blades that they wielded, all the while, the sisters' gunfire mixed in between.

While those four fought, it appears that the father has gotten some of his strength back. "Feeling a little unwell, are we?" he said to Miria as he picked up his axe with both hands and extended it with a click.

"I should say the same to you," she replied with a smirk. "Think you can handle me and the rest of my comrades by yourself?" Anastasia, Nike, Minerva and Phina, all stepped up besides Miria. "You seem to be still a little worn from your awakening."

The man snorted. "A father can't just leave his daughters well enough alone. I'll be making sure to end as many of you as I can before I dream again."

Miria frowned. She'll have to be careful not to let that happen. While worn, this man was a step above his daughters. They'll have to be cautious while trying to kill him quickly.

"If you surrender and answer our questions, then we may spare you and your daughters."

"A Vileblood sparing others? Ha! Your words are as empty as that of the church!"

"I don't know what a Vileblood is, but I can tell you that my word as a warrior is honest," she said. "I advise you to take it. You're outnumbered so there is nothing else for you but death if you don't."

 ***Click***

"Now I wouldn't say that, lass."

The voice came from another Hunter, this one in yellow garb, who had appeared from the back of a ruined wall near them. His pistol was aimed at the Claymores

 ***Click* *Click* *Click***

Three more Hunters stepped out of the shadows of the buildings around them. They carried similar serrated weapons as the yellow garbed Hunter, and all of their pistols were pointed at Miria and her comrades.

"A right fine bloody show we find ourselves in, isn't it?"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I only have several Hunters that will have original trick weapons and abilities. Most of the Hunters in this fic will be taken from the game, so you'll get to see them.**

 **Plot-wise, this fic already has an end to it.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I make no claims of owning Bloodborne or Claymore, only the OC that appear in this fanfic. Don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

 **I'm saying this again, things are not entirely canon for this fic. That being said, I may still end up being wrong about things such as who wields what or personal history. You can point those out to me.**

 **This chapter is quite a bit shorter than normal. I haven't had much time lately so you'll have to take what you can get.**

* * *

"Your daughters are as hardheaded as you are, Gascoigne," grumbled the man. "Impossible, the lot of you. How is an old man supposed to retire like this?"

"Grandad!" the two sisters shouted after their match with Cynthia and Audrey halted at the sudden development.

"Your grave will be your bed soon enough, Henryk," said Gascoigne with a smile.

"That seems to get farther and farther the more time I spend with you and your kids!"

Miria bit her cheeks. It was now an even match for both sides, but that was only assuming that the combat abilities were the same. She could tell that the two who were talking were far more capable than the others.

The man known as Henryk, turned to her. "Now what's all this about?" His pistol still aimed at her head.

"We only wish for them to answer our questions," said Miria slowly.

"They killed Isaiah, grandad!" Beth shouted. "Filthy Vilebloods, they are!"

"Shut it girl!" ordered Henryk. "The only ones to talk right now are me and this lassie here!" His gun still pointed at Miria.

The surroundings went silent. Even the man he had been complaining at, seemed satisfied to let him do as he pleased. Miria's comrades also understood that they could trigger the start of battle if they did not follow.

Henryk nodded after glaring at the surrounding people. "Now tell me, is it true your comrade killed one of our lads?"

"…Yes," Miria answered.

The grips of the Hunters all around them, went visibly tighter on the weapons they held. Only Henryk seemed unfazed by the answer.

"Why?" he asked. There was no venom or ill intent in his word, but she could sense the judgement that awaited.

Miria took a breath. "Because he claimed he was part of The Organization."

"Organization…?" Miria couldn't see his face through the covering of his face, but she could tell from his voice that he did not seem recognize them. "What in bloody Yharnam is that supposed to be? I've never heard of him joining any Covenant of the sort."

"So you're people aren't part of them?" asked Miria.

"I've lived long, and know enough about the Hunters with us, to tell you that I haven't got a clue to what this 'Organization' is that you speak of. And I've certainly known that lad quite a bit longer than the others, to know that he was never the kind to stick to a group." He chuckled a little. "Probably why he got killed by himself again in the first place."

Again?

Miria did not understand what he meant by that.

"How exactly did he meet with your lassies?" asked Henryk.

Miria explained to him in full detail of what Cynthia had told her of their conversation. It didn't take long before the old man sighed and holstered his pistol. With some reluctance, the surrounding Hunters did much the same, allowing the Claymores to sheathe their own weapons.

"T'would seem that there has been a wee bit of misunderstanding," Henryk said gruffly. "A fault that lies with our lad for trying to provoke yours."

"He lied…?" Cynthia asked in slight confusion. "But why? Why would he want us to try and kill him?!"

Henryk just shook his head. "I can't say I know the answer to that, young one. He was probably interested in your skills, but he may have gone too far in his curiosity. The lad has always had his strange quirks, but even this seems a bit over the top than his usual."

While Cynthia was still obviously thinking about why he would do such a thing, Miria tried to further her own queries towards the old hunter.

"If you are not part of The Organization, who are you then?" Her eyes stared at his intently. "Who are you to fight on the same level as we and the monsters we fight? Are you warriors, same as us? Or are you something else entirely?"

From the side, Father Gascoigne chuckled. "I've told you already, woman. We're Hunters. We hunt beasts. And this place?" He gestured all around them. "It's just another place for us to hunt."

Miria frowned.

That did not explain things at all clearly to her.

"Well," Henryk got up from the rubble he sat on. "This chat seems to have been entirely boring. Now if you don't mind, it's time for me and the lads to move on." He turned to the other hunters. "What's with all of you lollygagging about here? Go on! Get up! We've got places to go, beasts to dismember!"

Father Gascoigne along with his daughters joined in with the rest of them as they made to leave.

"Wait!" Miria interjected. "We still have much to discuss!"

Henryk didn't seem to show much interest in staying though. "Save your questions for those who truly know the answers to them," he said as the others already started to leave one by one. "We're just simple Hunters out on a hunt. I doubt we could give you any answer that would satisfy you."

Miria gritted her teeth in frustration.

There was truth in what the man said. Any questions she had, they would be merely glossed over by those who knew not how to explain the answers well. She couldn't just make them stop since they had nothing to do with The Organization at all. Also, trying to force them would just likely result in starting what would be a bloody battle for both sides. One that would still leave her questions remain unanswered.

"Then who do I have to speak with to have my answers!" she shouted.

Henryk halted in his steps.

Slowly, he turned his head to look back at Miria. "…If its answers your truly looking for, then I suppose Gehrman is the one you'll need to speak with." His voice seemed more cautious than his previous loudness. "He always seem to have an answer for everything… even if it is for questions that should never be answered."

"Where is he?" further pried Miria. "I'll go to him myself if I need to."

"I'm not sure you can."

Miria pressed on. "I'm not going to stop chasing after all of you until I am satisfied."

Henryk was silent this time. His eyes bore into hers, searching for a hint of weakness in them.

He found none.

"You're a difficult lass to deal with," sighed Henryk with a shake of his head. "Same type as Eileen…"

Miria didn't know who that was, but if she was anything like her, then no doubt Henryk knew she would never let this go.

"I'll ask him to meet with you," Henryk answered. "I doubt you could get to where he is anyways. You can meet with him at the city where most of us Hunters are staying at." Briefly, he scratched his chin as he tried to remember the name. "…What was the name again? Deka-something? Deena? No, no, I think it may have been Doseki maybe?"

"Are you perhaps speaking of the city of Diaemus?" Finally said Anastasia impatiently.

"Hahah!" Henryk snapped his fingers. "That's the one! I had it on the tip of my tongue!"

"No doubt…" Anastasia rolled her eyes.

"Very well," said Miria. "Tell him I would like to meet with him in 3 days' time."

With that said, Henryk turned to leave once more. "No rush, even if you're late," he said. "Even compared to someone like me, Gehrman very well knows what it means to wait. He'll be there waiting, whether you arrive on time or… arrive years later. It makes no difference. It could be all just a dream to him…" Miria did not seem pleased to speak to someone mentally incapable. "But I suppose everyone will see when he does wake for the first time in a long while."

Just as Henryk was about to leave, he seems to have remembered something else. He turned towards Cynthia. "While I'm there, I'll be sure to tell Isaiah to be there to give his own apologies. Blood knows the lad deserves to do that much at least for all the trouble he's caused."

He left quickly after. Leaving Cynthia and the rest of the Claymores all the more confused than before.

"But we killed him…" mumbled Cynthia in shock. "He knew that… right?"

"That guy is probably older and crazier than the other one," declared Minerva.

* * *

The city of Diaemus. A place left much untouched by the Yoma and Awakened Beings due to Luciela's influence.

The Abyssal One had rather stayed in a bustling city with plenty of entertainment to go around than seclude herself in a cave like an animal. Thanks to that, there was an unspoken rule among the Yoma and Awakened Beings to leave the place and its people well enough alone.

No one wanted to earn the Abyssal One's ire just because they couldn't help themselves and ate her favorite troubadour.

Unfortunately, with the news of her death, that unspoken rule was all but forgotten.

A year ago, there had been a steady rise in Yoma related deaths. At first, only a few were taken. Most likely the monsters only intended to sate their hunger. But gradually, the death toll rose as the months continued to pass with no one able to stop it.

The Claymores were summoned time and time again, but as soon as they thought they had purged the monsters and left, more arrived to take their place. It got to the point where the Yoma no longer hid themselves and blatantly strode in the daylight to grab anyone at all to eat on the spot.

That was all before the Hunters had arrived, attracted by the scent of prey…

"So this is the city of Diaemus," said Anastasia as she looked at the city's condition. "Not bad."

Audrey moved beside her and observed as well. "It looks like they've managed to repair most of the damage from last I was here."

"And you said the city was cleansed?" asked Miria.

"Yes, but we received a report as soon as I returned to headquarters that they were once more plagued by Yoma."

It was a similar situation to what happens in other places they send their warriors to. There was never enough of them to go around, so they could never station someone to protect the city.

"How is it, Cynthia?" Miria asked her comrade.

Cynthia's eyes were closed in concentration. "I can't detect the presence of any Yoma or Awakened Beings in the city." She opened her eyes to look at Miria. "Or in any of the places we passed by close to here. Unless they are using Yoki suppressants like last time, I believe there's not a single one left here."

Miria nodded her satisfaction at this.

Strangers they may be, these Hunters, but she could honestly admit that they are thorough in their work when it comes to killing Yoma.

"Everyone, we're going," ordered Miria resolutely.

When the Claymore's entered the city, they found it bustling with much life and activity. Quite the far cry of when last Audrey had last remembered of them. In her report, she had told of a city broken by despair and anguish.

It would seem that their lives had some semblance normalcy given back to them by the Hunters arrival. No doubt also thanks to the rapid disappearance of the monsters as well.

As the Miria's group made their way towards the inn, they encounter a few Hunters here and there. In a way, like the Claymores, they too were hard to miss in their clearly foreign garb. There was some uniformity among their clothes, wearing similar outfits with only a few minor differences among them. But then again, there were also quite a few who are clearly dressed differently.

"A lot of them seem to like hiding their faces with those hoods and masks that they wear," whispered Cynthia to Miria.

It wasn't just her that noticed though.

The others could clearly feel the gaze of the Hunters on them as they strode pass. Not one of hostility… but also not one of discounting the possibility of them becoming hostile.

"Is it just me? Or does anyone else feel like they're back at the dissection table?" Nike shared her unease.

"Hehehe!"

Nike was startled and stumbled to the ground by the giggle of someone's presence behind her. She looked up to see that it was one of the Hunters. This one, clearly a woman by the voice. It was a little hard to tell with the mask she had on.

"A remarkable comparison, yet probably an adequate one, I'm sure," said the woman. She reached her hand down in front of Nike, offering to help her it would seem.

Nike accepted and got up, but the rest of her compatriots were on alert against the Hunter. They were very concerned that none of them were able to sense the woman get so close to them while they were already wary.

"No need to make such a fuss against an old woman," said the Hunter with her hands showing she was unarmed. "I mean you no harm."

"Then why did you sneak up on me like that?" pouted Nike. She did not like making herself look like a fool… even though it happens more than she would care to admit.

"Sneak up on ya?" The old woman made another small giggle. "Why I was merely trying to walk pass you when I heard something that made this old prune give an honest laugh. You lot shouldn't take up the whole street if you don't care much to move out of an old woman's way."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Nike genuinely apologized to the woman. "Usually people give us a wide berth whenever we walk someplace." Unlike her companions, she was a little more trusting and naïve at times.

The Hunter was silent as she stared for a minute at Nike, causing the warrior to feel a little bit nervous.

"An honest one, I see," she commented. "A rare trait among those of us that hunt beasts. I do so hope you keep it that way for as long as you are able. Now if you'll excuse me, I have someplace else to be."

Nike and her compatriots watched as the woman left them to their right.

"Well she seems pretty nice, if only a little bit weird, I guess." Nike said so with slight cheer at having been praised.

"Nike…" Miria's eyes were serious, alongside that of the others. "That woman… she was very dangerous."

"What, really?!"

It was only her that couldn't sense the lingering scent of blood coming from the old woman. While she talked with the Hunter, Miria and the rest couldn't help but keep their hands on the handle of their blades all that time.

"But she seemed like such a nice old lady…" mumbled Nike.

"We should really train your senses more," said Audrey.

The group continued on their way.

"I wonder why she dresses like that," asked Nike out loud.

"Who knows, all these people dress so strangely that I can't even tell what's normal for them anymore," said Minerva.

"I think her outfit is kind of cool though. The mask and those feathers make her look like a crow."

In just a few more minutes, they would soon arrive at their destination without any further delays or surprises.

Although… a surprise still awaits them at the end.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **FYI I write this in the spare time I have left from trying to write out my main fic and balancing my IRL stuff. Don't expect to see regular updates.**

 **I can't reply to people who do not have accounts here (This is mostly information just in case for that italian guy). I also can't answer every single review sometimes. I've left too many unanswered for too long and answering them now will just be a bit too late. If you really needed me to answer something, just shoot me a PM.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I make no claims of owning Bloodborne or Claymore, only the OC that appear in this fanfic. Don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

 **I'm saying this again, things are not entirely canon for this fic. That being said, I may still end up being wrong about things such as who wields what or personal history. You can point those out to me.**

* * *

Miria and her fellow warriors soon see the large city inn, where she was told she would meet with the man called Gehrman. It was a meeting she had been preparing for since her first meeting with those Hunters three days ago. There were many questions she had, but she would limit it to only what was important right now. Unfortunately, it would seem that the meeting won't start quite so soon.

As soon as they arrived at the footsteps of the inn, someone came flying out of the window to their right. A familiarly clothed Hunter lay sprawled on the ground with bits and pieces of glass covering him. The man groaned in pain as he slowly got back up to his feet.

"I've told you this before, Adda," said Isaiah back towards the inn, clutching his stomach. "You need not concern yourself with me, nor my actions!"

The door to the inn opened to reveal a woman wearing a black leather Victorian style dress. She had an umbrella in her hand and wore a mask that matched her outfit, as if she was going to a ball. Her golden blond hair that was tied to a bun and her bright blue eyes had greatly contrasted with the darkness of her attire. As the woman went out, she opened up her umbrella and held it to her shoulder, shielding her from the sun.

"Yes," she said calmly. "You were quite clear with that the last time, I remember. But it would seem that you yourself have forgotten that, I too, made it clear that I will not be pleased with you the next time you do something so foolish."

Miria and her Claymores just stood where they were, unsure of what to do with the current situation unfolding in front of them. Interfering with an argument between Hunters was not something she had planned for. They could only watch quietly from the side.

The Hunter with the umbrella seems to have just noticed them. She approached them in dainty steps, the curves of her lips upwards in a smile.

"You must be the Hunters that wish to see Gehrman," she said nicely. "Allow me to introduce myself, Adda Coslet, a pleasure to meet you." She gave them a small, elegant curtsy.

Miria and the rest of her people knew of etiquette, but were unfamiliar with its practice. After all, a warrior rarely concerned themselves with those that do, aside from being hired by them to hunt the Yoma that resided anywhere close to their residence. All of the Claymores were always taken from the poor families, never the rich.

"I am the leader of our group, call me Miria. It is nice to meet you as well," politely nodded Miria before asking, "Is there a problem here?"

"There is no problem at all," the female Hunter said so, still with a smile. "I was just lecturing sweet Isaiah about the finer points in proper behavior towards women. For a supposed gentleman, he can be so ill-mannered at times." She shook her head in obvious dismay. "It can certainly be quite too much for a lady to handle such roughness."

"A delicate flower, you are not…" mumbled Isaiah weakly from behind her before collapsing back to the ground.

Adda ignored the man. "With the lack of decent gentlemen here, I would be elated to escort you myself on your way to the first Hunter, as he is currently away at the city gardens taking a peaceful stroll. However, I must ask that only you yourself can be allowed to meet with him."

"Why is that?" asked Audrey in suspicion.

Adda sighed. "Gehrman, you must understand, is old, very much so. For the first time in a long while, he has awakened."

Miria recalled that Henryk had said much the same. "Is he ill of some kind?"

"No." Adda shook her head. "He is just… overwhelmed would be the best way to describe his current state. But bringing so many new people for him to meet? Your questions may be left unanswered till he is able to adjust."

Miria pondered this for a few moments before turning to her comrades. "Audrey, I am leaving you in charge here. Cynthia and I will visit this man by ourselves. Wait for us here until we return."

"Understood."

"I take it this arrangement is fine?" Miria asked the Hunter.

Adda's smile showed that she was completely amused by all this. "It's a fair one, I suppose. Then shall we be on our way?" she asked to which she received a nod in reply. "I would certainly love to hear more from you and your people on our way there."

"Is he going to be okay?" Miria asked, her gaze moving to the still body on the ground behind Adda.

"He will be fine," casually dismissed Adda. "Fools as they are, such men are not so easily killed."

"I killed him though…" whispered Cynthia quietly in shock, her eyes fixed on Isaiah. Her face would be pale if her body was still that of a normal human. "I stabbed him through the heart with my sword…"

Adda heard this and frowned for the first time. She turned her attention towards Cynthia, who had been behind Miria the entire time staring at the man on the ground. A small audible gasp was heard from her as her eyes had lain upon Cynthia's face. With her free hand, she had quickly covered her mouth.

"I-It would seem I have to apologize," she said, seemingly a little taken aback. "My constitution seems to have been much worse than I had thought. I feel a little faint after giving that minor lecture. Please do excuse me for not being able to accompany you today." She quickly turned away from them and approached Isaiah's body.

"Get up…" she said, her voice quite colder in tone than before. When no answer came, she pulled the hem of her dress a little and kicked Isaiah hard in the ribs. "Get up now, or I will make sure you lie on the ground forever."

Isaiah coughed as he held his tender ribs while trying to get back up. "Damn you, Adda… Have you not done enough already?"

Adda grabbed him by the collars of his cape and pulled his face up closer to hers. "Apparently not," she whispered with much venom in it. "It looks like you've neglected to tell me some very important _details_ about what had transpired between you and the local Hunters." The two Hunters held each other's gazes for a while, one angry, another… ashamed.

Miria coughed lightly to get the two's attention. "Would it be alright if we see Gehrman now?"

Adda let go of Isaiah and returned her previous smile. "Oh, I am quite sorry you had to see that. While a poor substitute, I am sure this fool is capable enough of escorting you two to where you need to be. Isn't that right, Isaiah?"

"It would be a step in offering my sincere apologies for our earlier encounter," Isaiah said with a bow.

Miria herself didn't really care as long as she met up with Gehrman. Although, she was curious about Adda's sudden change in behavior. The woman had seemed so eager earlier to talk with them.

"I don't mind," said Miria.

"Splendid," said Adda. "I shall excuse myself here, as I find myself needing to lie down a bit." Just before she left to head back to the inn, Miria heard her whisper in passing to Isaiah, "…We _will_ speak more of this later."

Audrey addressed her comrade. "Be safe, Miria."

"And you as well."

While their comrades made accommodations at the inn, Miria and Cynthia were left all alone, guided by the none other than the Hunter first encountered… and killed. It should have been quite awkward for them, but the man did not seem at all concerned by what had been done to him.

"It is good to see you again, my Lady Cynthia." He bowed once more and greeted. "Although I am not a picture of good health currently, you are still as lovely as I last saw you."

Contrary to him, Cynthia was a bit shaken and, to her shame, hid herself slightly behind Miria from the man. "…Didn't I kill you?"

Isaiah smiled. "That you did, and I am happy you remembered me at the very least. Although our time apart since then has been short, I still fretted that you may have forgotten me."

"How are you still alive?"

"A question I would also like the answer to," said Miria.

"Now, now, I shouldn't be the one to spoil such things," said Isaiah, obviously enjoying his mystery. "You can just add it to the list of things you speak of to old man Gehrman." He started to walk, turning back only shortly to gesture for the women to follow. "Come then, let us not keep him waiting."

Miria and Cynthia were led by their guide at a leisurely pace. Loquacious was he as the women kept mostly silent, offering only a few words here and there to some of his thoughts and ideas of the matters concerning the city and its people. There was never a point in the one-sided conversation where he told them specifically about where he, or the other Hunters, came from. Only asking questions himself, like a foreigner visiting a new place for the first time would.

Soon, they arrive at the city gardens of Diaemus.

It was once said that the Abyssal One, Luciela, had favored this spot greatly when she was under guise in this city. Whether it reminded her of her humanity or just enjoyed the tranquility of the place, she could always be seen strolling through it frequently. Whatever the case may have been, that is no longer important now that she is dead. The gardens itself were much like one large park. A very proud accomplishment by the people. The entire city had spent much time and effort on its gardens, planting all sorts of flowers on the greenery of the wide fields there. There were a few trees here and there, even some flowing man-made streams to water the plants more easily. But what had really stood out the most was the flowers that carpeted much of the area.

"This… its beautiful," said Cynthia. "I've heard about it before, but it really is something to see it in person."

"Yes," admitted Miria. "I haven't seen this myself since this territory once belonged to an Abyssal One. Even the warriors recently sent here had not seen it since we have been too busy lately."

"Such a pity indeed." Isaiah strode forth and picked a lovely white flower, a little bit off to the side of their path. He rolled the stem around his fingers, observing all its petals and splendor. Slowly, he walked back to Cynthia, and presented it to her with a curt bow. "Would you care to see it more closely for yourself?" he asked.

Although still wary of him, Cynthia accepted the flower. "It smells nice… so wonderful" she said, a smile spreading on her face. "Reminds me a little of when I was younger."

"So wonderful indeed…" said Isaiah. "Your smile that is."

The compliment caused Cynthia to blush while her hold on the flower tightened a little bit more. She quickly once more resumed her position behind Miria against Isaiah, clearly intent on not speaking anymore with him.

Miria couldn't help but smirk a little at this behavior of her comrade. It was a rare thing that she had only seen Clare had done so before with Raki. Unfortunately, she had no time to waste on such romances. There was much to be done for her and her warriors.

"So where is he?" she asked Isaiah.

"Over there," pointed Isaiah. "Just on that small hill where that tall tree is."

Miria turned to where he was pointing to, and saw the silhouette of a man sitting on a wheelchair under the shade of the tree. His form was perfectly still. If he wasn't dead, she would think that he was sleeping.

Before she could walk over to the man, Isaiah said, "From here on out, I think it's best if you go alone." His tone was dead serious. "I'm not so sure you'll get what you can from him, but it's better for you if you have all his attention."

"…Very well," Miria conceded. "You stay here, Cynthia."

"M-Miria! You can't be serious!"

"This is a matter that I must attend to myself."

"You can't just leave me here by myself!" protested Cynthia.

"But I'm not," smiled Miria. "I'm sure Isaiah here will be glad to wait here with you while I speak with Gehrman." The Hunter tipped his hat in apparent agreement of this.

Cynthia looked aghast at this betrayal, since Miria should know perfectly well that she meant not to leave her all alone with him.

"If time permits, it might take a while," continued Miria. "So just enjoy the view here while you can."

"But—"

"Shall I show you where the roses are, my lady?" Isaiah offered his arm to Cynthia for her to hold. "I heard from the people here that they are blooming well at this time of year."

In the brief moment that Cynthia's attention was diverted, Miria had walked away briskly to approach the old man under the tree. She felt a little sorry for Cynthia, but it was a necessary action to take. Although, the feeling of teasing the poor girl did leave her with some mild satisfaction.

As she got closer to the hill, approaching from behind, Miria could make out the appearance of the old man sitting on a wheelchair. His clothing was dark, like most of the other Hunters she had seen. Although, they appeared to be a little more tattered and worn. Like many old men, he too had white hair, and wizened face under his cap.

Miria couldn't see his face quite clearly from behind him, but she could tell he was awake based on the slight tilt of his head looking up at the sky. She also noted his right wooden peg leg.

"It's a perfect weather to be out on a stroll," said Miria as she stopped close beside the old man.

Gehrman glanced slightly to where she was before looking back at the sky. "Is it now?" he somewhat chuckled in raspy voice. "I can't say I rightly know. I can't seem to recall having ever seen such weather before. Having slept for so long… It would seem I might've forgotten how bright the sun can be. The night and the dream had been o so long. Seeing it now… I think I can come to understand such fools who go around praising it."

"Have you been ill?" inquired Miria. Although she had been told that he was not, she still couldn't help but ask it again.

"Ill…?" mumbled Gehrman with a frown. "Yes… I suppose you could say that I was." He gave a small chuckle. "Although I am well now… I think? For the first time in a long while, I can say that I am truly well…" The emotion of his voice at that seemed to momentarily give him pause. "But enough about my health. A Hunter has come seeking guidance, and I will try my best to provide it… like I always have."

Miria frowned. "I am a warrior, not a Hunter."

"You find the beasts, you kill the beasts," stated Gehrman. "It's just what Hunters do."

Miria couldn't argue that. Aside from a greater gender disparity, all of them were much the same in their purpose of slaying monsters.

"Can you tell me where is that you people came from?" she asked instead.

"We come from a city much, _much_ larger than this one," said Gehrman. "A city called… Yharnam."

"I'm afraid I do not know where that is. Are you talking about someplace from the mainland?" Like everyone else in their island world, Miria knew little outside of it. It was only a few years ago that they found out the existence of foreign lands aside from their own, no thanks in small part to the machinations of The Organization that came from there.

"Perhaps… or perhaps not."

"I was told you could answer my questions," complained Miria.

Gehrman smiled. "And that I am. Just that… the answer you seek aren't always the ones you expect, or want."

The acting leader of the Claymores sighed.

"Come now, don't be too disappointed. Surely you have more questions besides that one. Ask away, I am sure I can answer at least one of them to your satisfaction."

Some distance away from the important talks, a Hunter and a Claymore were having a little discussion of their own. Although it was a little more difficult, in a sense.

"D-Don't come too close to me!" warned Cynthia.

Isaiah took a step forward trying to calm the woman down. "My lady, you're words wound me," he said in mock pain. "Have I not been a true gentlemen our entire time together? You treat me as if I was worse than a ruffian come to steal your purse."

With Miria gone, Cynthia was left to hiding behind a tree as her only defense against the Hunter. She glared at him with eyes full of caution and suspicion that it seemed like waves of it could be seen.

"You died…" she mumbled. "You can't be alive."

Isaiah understood that such a concept would greatly shock most people, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt to be doubted so much like this. He had spent the entire time alone with Cynthia trying to engage her in conversation with him. But alas, the poor girl was in complete guard mode against him.

He stood downcast before her. "It is my fault, I know. For you to experience our first meeting like that, it was terrible of me," he admitted. "I only wish to apologize for doing such a foolish thing. Please, I beg of you, do not hate me so…"

Cynthia couldn't help but feel a slight pang of sympathy for the man who plead so honestly. With a little bit of reluctance, she got out from the tree she hid behind and approached Isaiah. "You're not going to try and kiss me again, are you?" she asked with a pout.

It wasn't visible through the cape that covered his face, but Isaiah smiled happily at this. "It was quite unbecoming of me, but was it so wrong for a dying man to ask for a parting gift from a beautiful woman?"

"You didn't ask at all," said Cynthia, blushing red in her cheeks.

"I'll be sure to remember to do so the next time you impale your sword on my chest."

With a small graceful bow, Isaiah once more, offered his arm for the lady. Cynthia accepted it this time instead of running away like before.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **And now we see Gehrman, in all his rickety oldness. I may modify or add some more of his dialogue later on. I think I can make it a bit longer than this. It really depends on how much time I have.**

 **Oh, also, if anyone is wondering, Adda is another OC. You won't find her in the game. The main Hunter of the game will not be showing up for a while. A lot more of the recognizable Hunters may end up appearing more than he would.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I make no claims of owning Bloodborne or Claymore, only the OC that appear in this fanfic. Don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

 **I'm saying this again, things are not entirely canon for this fic. That being said, I may still end up being wrong about things such as who wields what or personal history. You can point those out to me.**

 **Also, my knowledge about Bloodborne lore is probably still lacking a bit since I have not finished even half the game yet.**

 ***May undergo edits since this is a fresh post... maybe (6/12/16)**

* * *

"You remember, do you? Remember what it was like to kill the one's you've known for so long…" The blurry outline of a man asked. "Your neighbors, your friends, your family… all of them dead and burned in their homes or on the streets of Old Yharnam. You made it all possible."

The blurred figure squirmed, like the wriggling shadow of numerous worms.

"Do you think stopping now will earn you forgiveness?" it continued. "There is no hope for you. None at all. Whatever hope there was, died and turned to ash along with those people you condemned. You shouldn't worry." The shadow reached its hand out, agonizing wails coming from its form. "Come, the blood beckons and the hunt goes on!"

"Guh!"

Underneath a willowed old tree, a man awoke from his slumber. He looked at his surroundings, breath still ragged and rough from his nightmare, as if trying to remember just where he is.

The pale moon hung high above the night skies, shining its light down to those below it. The remnants of the man's campfire lay dark, cold and black as the rest of the world around him. No others were beside him, only he alone was there.

The man breathed in, and gave a sigh of relief, looking up at the pale moon. "Blasted dreams…"

His right hand felt for the bandage covering his right eye just beneath his cap, palming it, as if making sure it was still there. The familiar covering was still where it was supposed to be, causing him to purse his dried lips.

"Never again…" he whispered.

Sitting on the ground with his back leaning against the tree, the man continued to stare at the night sky, seemingly content to just stay still there. There were no fires, there were no beasts, there were no blood spilled anywhere around him. There was only the soothing sounds of a breeze passing through the leaves and branches of the woods he was in.

"…I hope for nothing nor ask for forgiveness," he said to himself. "But let me at least enjoy this moment for the time being."

A scream pierces the night, somewhere further down the woods from him. The howling of beasts accompanied the multiple cries of terror. From the sounds of it, it was obvious that people were getting killed.

"Will I be forever haunted?" grunted the man before picking up his weapons and items.

The man ran off in the direction of the screams. His movements were swift, shifting his bearings easily whilst navigating through the darkness and terrain.

He does not hope to save everyone, he knows he can't, but he'll do everything he can to prevent their deaths… including those of beasts.

Away went Djura into the night, a retired old veteran of the hunt. A man who regrets spilling blood in a world bathed in it.

* * *

Inside her small abode, Irene sat on a simple wooden chair that she herself had made, a letter in her only hand. It was delivered to her by one of her fellow sisters from the city of Rabona.

She's already lost count how many times she's read the letter since she received it months ago. Night had already fallen by this time, but still, she could not stop herself from reading it once more, even after knowing its contents by heart by now.

How could she?

While the letter from Clare was trying to make things as if everything was alright, she could read between the lines of what is truly happening. Their world was being threatened.

Numerous appearances of yoma and awakened alike can only be the work of the ones that started everything. It did not end with their defeat five years ago, it will not end now. She knew this to be true.

"Clare…" She wondered if her one time pupil was truly fine.

Her eyes wandered from the letter to her sword that lay on the table in front of her. She wanted to live in peace. To slay monsters once again, she had thought she had left that life behind her forever along with her left arm. But, can she just leave Clare and her sisters alone?

Suddenly, she sensed the appearance of yoki nearby. Her thoughts had distracted her too much to have just noticed it just now. She judged them to be simple yoma by the strength of the yoki she could feel.

She placed away her letter, and grabbed her sword.

Her claymore in hand, she left the warmth of her home. Thinking about her life will have to wait. For now, Quicksword Irene shall remove the ones who dare disturb her peace.

* * *

"Back! Back away, I say!"

Djura stood only a few feet away from three yoma, right between them and a mother and her child. His Hunter Blunderbuss pointed at the beasts, though they already knew that he had no intention of directly hitting them with it. He had already tried to scare them off with it several times already.

"Have you not killed enough to sate your thirst for blood?" he questioned the beasts.

The only answer he received was the fitful of laughter the beasts directed at him. Their saliva drooling from their mouths filled with their jagged teeth. The blood and flesh of their victims trailed all over their bodies.

The people of the small caravan that they had attacked were left down to the two behind Djura. All of the rest have been killed. The sight alone of the grisly scene reminded the retired Hunter of the nightmares that plagued him whenever he sleeps.

"Feh! No choice, I suppose." Djura took out a molotov cocktail.

He threw it in the ground, setting a small fire that caused the beasts to back away. They snarled, roared, and sneered at him through the flames, not eager to kill their prey through it. The fire won't last long, so they intended to wait.

"Please!" begged the mother at him. "Don't let them take my child!"

There was nothing Djura could do but stall for time. He already made an exception by allowing the Hunters to kill the beasts in Old Yharnam. Although he joined them in their dreams, he never did take the life of another beast. They may call him a coward, but he had vowed that he never would.

"I am sorry, but this is all I can do," he answered regretfully.

A change began in the creatures' voices. Djura recognized it as the final death throes of dying beasts claimed by Hunters. He could not see clearly through the dying flames he started, but could make out the shadows roaming and scattering on the other side. It didn't more than a minute since it began for silence to fall. Only the sobs of the child and the small cackling of the fire remained.

A small fire still burned in front of Djura. He could finally make out the sliced bodies of the beasts through it. They were now chopped into a dozen pieces each. Even seeing the beasts like that caused him to bite his cheek. He could not see the one responsible for it, though. That didn't matter. He knew the Hunter was still out there, watching them.

"You can come out now, Hunter," he said, still standing in place. "There's no need for you to hide yourself."

After a few moments, a woman with pointed ears broke from the shadows and strode into the light. The little fire there was, illuminated her almost translucent white skin, her silver eyes carefully observing Djura.

"A skilled one, eh?" said Djura. He assumed so. What with only a single arm to wield that large sword of hers.

The woman turned her eyes from him to the mother and child behind him. The mother looked frightened of her, no doubt she knew what she was. While the little girl in her arms continued to quietly sob into her mother's bosom.

Her eyes once more focused back on Djura. There was a small change in her eyes, curiosity perhaps. Fear was normally expected when seeing her kind, yet the man before her showed no such thing.

"I can allow you to rest at my home until dawn breaks," she said before turning her back at them, strapping her sword behind her, and slowly walking away. "Follow me if you wish to accept."

"Much appreciated." Djura held his hand out to the mother, and helped get her on her feet. "Come, we must not stay here. It is not safe. The scent of blood could attract more of the beasts."

Faced with the possibility of encountering more yoma, the mother was quick to follow, her daughter sticking close to her. They followed the Claymore a few paces behind her, the mother refusing to get too close, but never letting herself get too far for fear of losing her in the darkness.

It was unfounded fear, of course. The warrior would never try to harm them. Djura was also there to help guide them, pointing out any objects that may trip them on the forest floor. It didn't take long before they reached a clearing, one where a small tiny house occupied its center.

The area was well maintained. A small garden was adjacent to the house, a modest amount of lush vegetables growing in its soil. The few trees that were there seems to carry fruits. It was all the hallmarks of a residence of a self-sufficient human out of civilization's way. Although, others and the resident herself would most likely never refer to herself as human.

"There is only a single bed," said Irene, as she continued to walk towards the small house. "It is a simple one, but your wife and child are welcome to use it. I've not needed to use it at all anyway. It was merely more for appearances sake. You can also take as much food as you can."

"Thank you for your kindness," chuckled Djura. "But you're mistaken about me being this woman's beloved. I'm just a simple man who came to help them in their time of need. I'll let the two of them rest whilst I stay outside."

If the Claymore was bothered about this, she didn't really show it. Her stride never broke until they reached her home.

With a small whisper of thanks to Djura, the mother entered the house quickly with her daughter. At the closing of its doors, only a single man and woman stood outside. They both still faced the door, their eyes locked on to it.

"She seems quite frightened of you," pointed out Djura. "It was only a matter of time until those beasts would manage to get past me, then kill her and the child. She still thanked me for my actions. Yet you, who slew the beasts and even provided food and shelter, is left not with even a single word."

"It's to be expected of my kind," the woman simply said. Beside the door, she drew her sword and stabbed it into the ground. She sat down, her back leaning against her sword and her only arm resting on her side.

Djura sat beside her, only the door kept a space between them as the two sat there like guards protecting an entrance assigned to them.

The woman had her eyes closed. Her breathing was soft and almost inaudible.

"You need not pretend to sleep for my sake," said Djura. "I won't be sleeping anymore today. No need to make me feel comfortable. Such a luxury can be saved for those who can use it."

True enough, the woman opened her eyes and let out what might have been an exasperated sigh.

"I guess you really are capable," she said. "Your appearance aside, your weapons doesn't look to be just for show."

Djura removed his Stake Diver from his hand, and laid it down on his lap along with his blunderbuss. "They are just a reminder of the sins I bear now. I no longer use them as I once did. Like against those beasts, they are now merely a prop to scare off the meager," he answered with a hint of distaste.

The man held no interest in the woman he was with. That is not to say the same could be said for the other. The Claymore had noticed his foreign garb, worn and used that it was fraying on all its edges. And the weapons he carried… she had never seen the likes of them before.

As both sat in quite silence, Quicksword Irene was contemplating the motives of the man beside her. The possibility of him coming from the mainland had crossed her thoughts. Such a possibility would mean that there would be high chance that he was related to The Organization.

"Why did you not kill them?" she asked.

She did not need to say who or what. There was no need to. Djura knew the question would have come anyway.

"I am no longer a Hunter," he answered. "There's nothing more horrific than a hunt, and so that time has long past me."

Irene was not convinced of his answer. Her doubts about this man only grew.

"I too no longer take my sword to the monsters as I did in my past," she said to the man. "But that did not stop me from slaying them when the need for it arises." She turned her head to face the man. "Answer me, why did you not kill them? Your actions would have resulted in the deaths of innocent lives."

"You're quite the nosy Hunter, aren't you?" Djura snorted, a little annoyed. "I suppose I owe you that much for your help." For a moment he was silent, most likely thinking of what to say. "You say my actions would have resulted in the deaths of innocent? In case you've failed to realize… the things you hunt? They're not beasts. They're people."

Irene already knew of this. Clare and her sisters told her as much of everything there was to the truth behind the creation of yoma and awakened. It was tragic, but it was only a tragedy that continued for as long as they lived.

"They stopped being people the moment they turned to killing their friends and loved ones," she told him. "You're only allowing the suffering to grow worse by refusing the kill them."

"I'm not sure I believe that," said Djura, palming his bandaged right eye. "I'm not sure I can…"

While Irene still did not fully understand him, she knew him to be telling the truth. She relaxed a bit after that. She recognized him to be a man haunted by his past actions, not one to be in the part of something like The Organization.

"My dreams are haunted," he continued. "It is covered with nothing but ash and blood. Just like me." The man looked at his hands as he said so. "When I stopped entering the Hunter's Dream, it was only then that the nightmares would plague me when I sleep. Another hunter convinced me to step foot in that place one last time. To end the dream was what he reasoned to me. To end my own dreams is what I thought when I followed."

"I'm afraid I do not understand," said Irene. The conversation had taken a strange turn that she could not completely follow.

Djura looked at her seriously. "Be glad that you don't. The Hunter ended that dream. But in the end, he started another. The Hunter's Dream… I'm still tied to that place. And the dreams… the dreams still haunt me even here."

"Your dreams aside," said Irene. "I think you're just running away, unable to face the truth." Her face was passive as she stated her opinion.

"Weak, cowardly, call it what you will," said Djura dismissively. "Many other Hunters do. I have no intention of changing my vow. I'll die over and over if I must, but I swore never to slay another beast."

"Even if it means the death of others?"

Djura was silent at that for a moment.

"…I've spilled enough blood already," he finally answered. "I don't want to see anymore. I'll find someplace far away from beasts and men. Far enough that I would no longer hear the cries and voices. I've paid my dues, and now I would like to just spend my days isolated from the world."

"That won't change what you've done, and what would continue to happen to the world," said Irene.

"And what gives you the right to lecture me about such things!" Djura said loudly, almost shouting. "A Hunter that lives all the way out here in your perfect little world, away from the beasts and mankind alike. You dare lecture me when you yourself have cut yourself off!"

Silence.

There was a slight stirrings of the people inside the house, most likely from hearing the man. Both Djura and Irene stayed silent until they felt the presence within retreat back into their slumber.

"I'm so sorry…" Djura sighed. "I don't know what came over me. I should not have lost myself there."

"No, you are correct," said Irene. "I am hiding myself from the world, letting it rot and die while I wait here. There are people that need me, and yet I stay here knowing that." Her mind wandered to Clare and her sisters. "I reasoned my disability would only make me a liability." She gestured to her missing arm. "But that is a lie. Some part of me does not wish to leave this place I've carved out for myself. A shameful one that has chained me, continues to hold me and weaken me."

The reason she reads that letter from Clare every day, her thoughts always going back to it even when she didn't have it in her hands. It is because she tries to convince herself what the letter says is true… that they are doing fine without her.

"Having one arm did not stop me from killing those monsters earlier and saving that mother and her child," Irene said. "Your words may have been spoken in misguided anger, but they were true nonetheless. You've woken my eyes to the truth." She stood up, and plucked her sword from the ground. "Therefore, tomorrow, I shall leave this place and rejoin my sisters in battle. I will no longer seclude myself from the world."

For a while, Djura stared at her, standing tall over him with pride.

"…You are a better Hunter than I could have ever been," he acknowledged begrudgingly.

"If you wish, you may take this place as your own," said Irene, further surprising him. "I have no more use for it. Although, I can give you another option…" She sheathes her sword behind her, then holds her empty hand towards him. "You can come with me, and help make this world a better one, for you and for everyone else."

Sitting down, looking up at the hand reaching out to him, Djura could not speak. Here he was being given a choice of taking up the life he sought or return to the life he left behind. The choice should have been simple, and yet…

Suddenly, both Djura and Irene turned their attention to a section of the forest where they came from. They felt the hostile presence of an enemy approaching their direction. The presence was raging and wild, making a racket through the forest as it moved. The loud noise of its movement could soon be heard.

Out of the forest burst forth an awakened being with thin sharp claws for fingers on its hands. Its body was similar to that of a praying mantis, having multiple legs. Although its body was completely inhuman, its face was still that of a man.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" it bellowed. "Daddy needs a hug!"

"No… Yoran!" The mother had opened the door of Irene's house to see what was going on.

The creature seems to have heard her and turned to face her way. "Ah, my beloved. Care to tell me where my little girl is? Is she with you? I want to give her a kiss." The drool from its mouth convinced no one of that.

"No!" screamed the woman.

Before the creature could approach any closer, Irene stepped between him and her home, her sword already on guard.

"Take them!" she shouted back at Djura. "Take them and go!"

The creature swiped its claws at Irene before she could say anything more. Djura tried to follow her order, but the mother was in a catatonic state after seeing the face of her beloved turned into a monster.

"We have no time for this!" shouted Djura at the mother. "You and your daughter will die if you stay here! Stand up and run, damn you!" He gave up on convincing the woman and was just about to pick her up instead when Irene had slammed into a section of her house beside them.

"Haa…haa…hoo!" The awakened being breathed, some of its claws slowly regenerating. "Claymore… I didn't expect to see one so close here."

Irene had managed to injure the beast with her Quicksword technique. Unfortunately, her arm was still not up to par to her old one she gave to Clare. Killing it proved too difficult for her current state.

"Stay back! You know not what you've become!" shouted Djura at the creature, he stood in front of the woman to protect her. "Stop this!"

"I just want to give my family a hug," sneered the beast at him. "What's wrong with that?!"

Out of one of his pouches, Djura took out another of his Molotov cocktails. But before he could use it, his attention was diverted by a whimpering behind him.

"Daddy… Daddy, please!" the little girl had awoken and saw the twisted form of what was once her father. "Don't hurt mommy!" she cried.

The creature took this chance to backhand Djura out of the way, sending the retired hunter flying a few feet away, groaning in the ground after skidding to a halt.

"Now, now, Misha," smiled the beast. "Daddy just wanted to see you. He missed you so much, after all. Here, give daddy a hug." He reached out for the girl.

"No!"

The mother pushed her daughter out of the way before its claws closed on her. The daughter was safely out of the way, but the mother…

"Mommy…?" the little girl gasped when she saw the mangled body of her mother in the claws of what was once her father.

"Run… Misha… run…" sputtered out the mother with blood coming out of her mouth.

"What a bother." The creature closed its hand, its claws slicing through the flesh of the woman, ending her life. It turns its attention back to the little girl. "Now, where were we?"

He reached out for the girl once more, but a pebble thrown at its face took his attention.

"What have you done…" whispered Djura, blood trickling from his temple. "She was your wife… did she not love you?"

The creature laughed at this. "Of course she loved me!"

"Then why…?"

"It's why I came here to find her and my daughter," answered the beast. "They make easy prey." It closes in on Djura. "And with you gone, I can savor the moment even better with my daughter."

It stabbed its five-fingered claw at Djura. The attack hits, but the target was not the same. Irene had taken the blow for the retired hunter, the claws of the beast had pierced through her chest.

"Still alive, huh?" the beast grumbled. "So difficult to kill, you Claymores."

"You…" Djura was shocked by this.

Irene looked back at him and said, "The people suffer with your inaction… even this creature."

Djura did not understand until he saw the creature's face. It had a twisted smile on, as if pleasured by its acts of gore and violence. However, tears were rolling down its cheeks from its eyes, flowing continuously like a stream.

"As long as they live… they will suffer," Irene coughed. "Stop it… end their misery!"

"Shut up and die already!" The creature threw Irene from its claws away from them. "At least die screaming if you're going to talk at all!"

"Mommy… Daddy… I want to go home," cried the little girl, sobbing into her hands.

The creature smiled over at her. "Shush now, Daddy's here." It started to walk over to her. "There's no need to cry. Daddy is—" It paused in it speech as it felt something on its neck.

Right below the creature, Djura stood, his Stake Diver pointed directly towards it.

"I am sorry… so very sorry…" With that said, Djura's Stake Diver made a small bang, and the piston drove its blade through the creature's flesh. Before it could finish screaming, he dragged the extended blade clean through, cutting off the beast's head.

As the head falls near his shoulder, Djura heard it whisper, "Thank you…"

He stood there, soaked in blood coming out of the creature's body. It was scene so very much like his old days of the hunt. Another beast killed by him… another person. And yet this time, he felt no remorse for what he had done. Quite the opposite in fact. His heart felt little lighter, his thoughts a little clearer, and the ashen blood that dogged his mouth no longer tasted like so.

"It is over…" he said. There was no one to hear him. The little girl had passed out moments ago, cried herself to exhaustion. And the woman that saved them again…

"A splendid end," came her voice.

Djura rushed quickly to where her body lay, and knelt. He rummaged quickly through his pouches trying to find a blood vial. He then realized that they must have fallen off somewhere when had been thrown.

"Blast it all!" he shouted in frustration, still checking his pockets for the chance that maybe even a single one was still hidden somewhere.

"…You did well," said Irene as her eyes settled on his frustrated face. "Don't think of this… as ending their lives. Think of it as saving them." Her eyes started to slowly shutter, no doubt her end was nearing. "This is not a bad way to go. I just wish… that I could have seen Clare's face one last time."

"Stop trying to speak, you fool!" Djura started emptying his pockets in a rush. "There must be another one! There has to be!"

Djura's frantic search halted when Irene's hand grabbed his arm.

"Save such luxury for those who can use it," she smiled at him.

What she said was true. The hole in her chest had carved out her entire heart. There was no going back from this for her.

"Tell me… what is your answer to my offer?"

Djura carefully took her hand in his. "…I would gladly join you in a hunt."

Her smile widened, pleased with his answer. "That's what I thought…"

Djura watched as woman closed her eyes, her serene smile still lingered even as her breath stopped. There was no strength left in the hand that held his. The wind carried on, rustling through the grass and leaves that surround them.

"…Take her…"

A small whisper escaped from Djura's lips. His hand still held tightly on to the woman lying down in front of him.

"Take her…" he murmured again. "I know you can hear me." Letting go of the woman's hand, he stood up.

The wind turned into whispers, shadowed voices that come from someplace else. There is no longer any movement from the air that plays with the greenery around them.

"You stir in the depths of our consciousness! Don't pretend you can't hear what I speak!" Djura shouted loudly.

He fell silent for a moment, whilst the hallowed voices grew stronger. He cannot understand what they say, but he knew his own words were understood.

"A Hunter has fallen. Will you not let her dream?" he asked. "If a man such as me can enter the dream, surely a Hunter like her would be more than welcomed? I joined you and the others with ending that wretched dream before, and now I've rejoined the hunt as well. You should have no need to think about it."

The voices were silent, not even a single whisper from what were numerous ones just a moment ago. It was as if the world had entirely gone deaf.

"Surely I need not repeat myself?" said Djura. "I am asking you to take her."

A symbol –no, a mark burned itself on the back of the woman's hand, searing into her flesh. Shortly after, her body disintegrates into luminous white light, vanishing into the air. It didn't take more than a few seconds before there was not a single trace left behind of Quicksword Irene. Her body had faded from the world, even her sword.

"Consider the debt paid," he spoke to no one but the rustling of the wind.

* * *

The last thing Irene thought she would see before she closed her eyes eternally was the face of the man she had saved. As she felt the cold embrace of death come for her, she remembered that she hadn't even known his name, and she never did give out hers.

Another regret for a life she'd forever leave. At least… that was what she had thought.

It came as a surprise to her that when she had opened her eyes, what she saw was not quite what she'd expected.

"What is this place…?" she wondered, her thoughts still a little hazy.

A greater surprise still, was that, not only was her injury gone, but she also now had her left arm back. It really made her wonder if this was the afterlife that people usually talk about.

She stood on a cobbled path, one that led to the ominous building in front of her. Or was it a chapel maybe? It probably was, based on her surroundings.

She knew it was night, but the pale moon that hung above the sky was considerably bright. It was the largest she'd ever seen it before. Even so, the area around her were lit with various candles and lanterns, further removing the dark. Headstones were placed alongside that paths to her left and to her right, peppered with those candles, leaves, and flowers. A great deal many more she could see through the fences in an enclosed area of a great tree that looked to be overflowing with blooming flowers.

She tried to look beyond the fence and trees behind her, but there was nothing she could see, even with her enhanced vision, there was only fog and the spires that seem to go all the way up to the ends of the sky. It would be folly to try and navigate blindly through such a place.

Her attention turned inward, towards the center of this place. The chapel, the only building that she could see, had its windows and doors closed. Looking down towards the steps leading to it, she saw something odd.

A body.

That was what she had thought for a moment, before her sense told her it was never a living thing. She walked over to it, observing her surroundings as she did so. There were no movements, no traps, and no monsters. Only her.

Only her and the doll.

"This seems to be really complex work," she marveled as she examined the life-sized inanimate doll that quietly sat in its corner. The attire it had was finely made, as was everything else about it. Its greyish hair and porcelain white skin reminded her of those of her fellow warriors, yet this doll seemed so frail…

Suddenly, Irene gripped her sword and looked behind her.

She had thought she heard a whisper, an almost inaudible sound from her back. With her hand still on the grip of her sheathed sword, she watched and waited for a full minute.

There was nothing.

She sighed, trying to calm herself. Her mind was still fuzzy so she thought that it was probably nothing. There was no one there but her, her and the plain doll.

She realized something then, she still hadn't looked inside the chapel. There maybe someone inside. Perhaps even a clue as to where she was and what this place is.

She left the doll, and started walking up the steps to the chapel. With each step, she drew closer to the building. With each step, the haze in her mind felt lighter. It was a short distance, yet it felt so far to her, as if she'd walked miles and miles up a mountain.

She did not stop until she finally reached the wooden front doors of it. She reached out for the handles, gripping the cold metal bars. She pulled them. They did not budge.

The door was closed, and her entry blocked.

Irene stood back away from the doors, her eyes observing the entire building that seem to tower before her. The windows were closed. There was no way in.

"Just where am I?" she asked herself again. This place had felt so strange, made her feel so strange… kind of like a dream.

Her thoughts went back to what that man spoke to her of his dreams. He had mentioned much about them. There was one that he called that seems to dance at the tip of her hazed mind. A place he called…

"The Hunter's Dream…" she whispered.

"Hello, honorable Hunter."

In a flash, Irene had drawn her sword and pointed it at the intruder that had suddenly spoken behind her. The tip of her blade was just hovering less than an inch away from the neck of the one who startled her.

Her eyes widened when she saw who it was.

The doll stood before her, calm and serene even with a blade pointed at its neck. It tilted its head at her, as if asking if something was wrong.

"You… what are you?" murmured Irene. The being in front of her should be nothing more than a doll. Its hands were proof enough that it was made by men. However, the eyes that watched her were not dead. Life breathed, and so does this doll, or so it would seem.

"I am a doll." An answer simply stated. "Here in this dream to look after all Hunters the same as you."

"…Hunter… Hunter's Dream," Irene did not move her blade a single inch from where it was, still cautious of the doll. "So this really is just a dream," she said to herself.

"Yes," nodded the doll. "You stand before the Hunter's Workshop. It is closed for now, I'm afraid. Gehrman no longer resides here, so I alone am left to guide you… at least for now."

Irene looked carefully at the doll. It did not seem to mean her any harm, and appears to only wish to help her. Slowly, she lowered her claymore, and sheathed it once more behind her back.

"Why am I here?" she asked the doll. "To what purpose am I brought here?"

"Is it not obvious?" said the doll. Irene furrowed her brows as did not see what it meant at all. "A Hunter has fallen, and so she dreams."

"I am no Hunter," said Irene. She may have been called that by that man, but she considers herself a warrior, same as that of her sisters.

"You are now, it would appear," the doll smiled at her. "Only a true Hunter may enter this dream. After all, you also bear their symbol." It pointed towards her hand.

Irene just noticed that a scar was on the back of her right hand. It was a dangling, upside-down rune that had been etched into her flesh. When she thought to ask what it was, the answer came quickly into her mind.

Hunter's mark. A symbol… of a Hunter.

"I welcome you, honorable Hunter," the doll curtsied toward her, its mechanical hands holding on to her skirt. "You will hunt beasts… and I will be here for you, to embolden your sickly spirit." It stands back up with a faint smile. "What is it you desire?"

"I…"

This was all so strange. Never has Irene encountered a situation like this ever before in her entire life. She had never heard of hunters, or of such vivid dreams. At least… that was until she met that man.

"I wish to return," stated Irene, her voice was sure.

"Very well," the doll nodded.

She pointed to one of the many headstones below them. The candles that were there had suddenly lit up. Its bright luminescent light turned blue in its hue before returning back to its original color.

"The path is opened."

Somehow, Irene knew what to do to return to where she came. She walked over to stand in front of the gravestone, the candle's flame causing shadows to dance on its surface.

She looked back at the doll.

"Farewell, honorable Hunter," said the doll, the smile on its face gave Irene a feeling of warmth. "May you find your worth in the waking world."

Irene had found herself giving back a small nod of acknowledgement.

Standing before the gravestone, she knelt in prayer. With her eyes closed, she could not see, but she could feel the world around her disappear, as if falling from a dream. She knew that once she opened her eyes, it would no longer be a land of dream she will see.

"Well, well… look who's back in the waking world. Did you have a pleasant dream?"

Irene smiled before her eyes had even opened. Finally opening her eyes, she stood to find the man sitting with his back against her damaged home, a sleeping young girl beside him. She looked around the state of the land she's lived in for so long.

Dawn had broken, its yellow light slowly bathing the lands with its warm embrace. There were two new additions that appeared to her eyes. The two freshly dug graves, marked only with piled up stones, must have been the mother and the father of the young girl. It was no mystery to Irene who had made them.

She looked at the man said, "It was strange… but it was far from unpleasant."

"Good to know," said Djura. He stood up himself, waking the young girl beside him as he did. "It's time we got going. I've sat here waiting for so long, I dozed off myself for a while."

"And how was it?" asked Irene.

"How do you think?" Djura snorted. "I'm still haunted by dreams, of course. Although… it was a little different this time."

He did not tell her of it, but he had dreamed of a time long past, before he became a Hunter. One of a life he had thought long forgotten and buried beneath all the ash and blood. A silly dream of another time, another life. Like hers, he wouldn't call it an unpleasant one.

"This young one tells me she has relatives in a city called Rabona," continued Djura. "I wouldn't have cared to wait for you, but I've no head for the geography of this land."

Irene wasn't entirely sure, but somehow she knew this man had saved her. She doubted he would have left her, even without using the girl as an excuse.

"You're sure you want to leave this place behind?" she asked. "I can take the child there myself. You can make the life you've always wanted here."

Djura looked back at her. "Her mother's death is my sin to bear. She is my responsibility. And besides…" He pointed behind him to the small damaged home. "This place is falling apart. Surely you don't expect me to live here. I should think a city would have finer accommodations than this place."

Irene stifled a giggle. "My sisters live there as well. Do you mind if I join you?"

"I've already told you, didn't I?" said Djura, already walking away after packing away what little items he had. "I would gladly join you in a hunt."

Only Irene and the young girl were left at the remains of her small home. She looked at the cautious little one and held out her left hand. The girl accepted, and they walked briskly to catch up with the man.

"Oh, I remember something from my dream," said Irene.

"Oh? What is it?" asked Djura, curious about what part of the dream she would say.

"If we are to travel together, should we not exchange each other's name?"

"Ah, that's right," agreed Djura. "That has completely passed my mind. Names have a funny way of slipping past me." He didn't stop walking, but slowed his pace. "I'm just an old veteran Hunter, just call me Djura."

Irene smiled at him. "My name is Irene. It is nice to meet you, Djura."

The man grunted his acknowledgement.

"It is a long way to Rabona," said Irene. "How shall we pass the time, I wonder?"

"I don't really care, just as long as we get there."

"Then shall you tell me more about dreams?"

The three continued to walk towards their destination, the sun slowly rising above their heads. It would take them some time to get there, but they would arrive with no problems. It helped that stories shared on the road made it feel a little shorter than it was.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **This went on a lot longer than I thought (-.-)**

 **I considered making it to two chapter, but I didn't feel like separating this story. I feel so lazy now. I've worked on this for quite a bit since it all flowed so well. I might change a few things in the last part later on because my eyes feel so tired after getting that far. The quality and story may have suffered due to that.**

 **I feel so lazy now...**

 **Anyway, tell me what you guys think in the reviews.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I make no claims of owning Bloodborne or Claymore, only the OC that appear in this fanfic. Don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

 ***May undergo edits since this is a fresh post... maybe**

* * *

Deep underground in an undisclosed location, a meeting was taking place. Four men occupied the cavern lit only with dim burning torches. The light from the flames casting barely any light upon the hooded figures that sat before a single man that knelt before them.

"What is your report?" the cracking voice came out from the middle of the three hooded figures.

"Current projections of the infiltration and invasion of the island for the Northern, Eastern, and Western Quadrant have been met," answered the messenger respectfully, his head still lowered. "Our losses have been higher near the Central Region due to the heavier presence of the Claymores there."

"That much we expected," nodded the hooded figure to the right.

"And what of the Southern Quadrant?" asked the other on the left.

The messenger had noticeably gulped. It was, after all, not a report that would be well received.

"…Wiped out…"

"What was that?" said the middle hooded figure.

"The yoma and awakened ones sent there have almost all been wiped out, Elders."

"What?!" shouted the one to the left. "How can that be?! There should not have been enough of those failed experiments to do that unless they had abandoned the other quadrants!"

The middle hooded figure silenced him with a single gesture of his hand before nodding at the messenger to continue with his report.

"Based on the scant, uh, reports that we received, it is believed that the Claymores had little to do with our… failure in the Southern Quadrant," said the messenger nervously.

"Then how is it that our forces have been beaten?" questioned the hooded figure on the right. "Even if the entire population of that quadrant were gathered together, I highly doubt they would have been able to win against our own."

"There have been too little of our forces that returned to give an accurate account of the entire details, but we do know that they were slaughtered by only a small band of people."

"More Claymores?" asked the middle one curiously.

"No, Elder," said the messenger. "At least, we don't believe them to be. Most of these people were men." A surprised murmur began among the three hooded figures in front of the messenger.

"Remnants of the earlier experiments?" said the one to the right.

"Or Dae had failed to inform Rimuto of continuing his own research before both of their demise," suggested the left one. "That mad fool could have been hiding it from us all this time."

"What else can you tell us about these men?" The middle elder asked the messenger.

"I apologize, Elder," The messenger bowed his head lower. "There are few that were able to return to us from fighting them. All we know is that they use various weapons and some sort of exploding stick to fire upon their enemies. They've also begun hunting down our retreating forces that had tried to flee, and are now making their way to the other parts of the island. Even our infiltrators have been killed."

"I had thought we supplied them with a good amount of yoki suppressants, did we not?" said the middle elder icily.

"…They proved useless, Elder," answered the messenger. "Many had taken the pills, but it had only served to decrease their chance of survival against these men. Some had even taken more than the necessary amount to stop any of their yoki at all from appearing. The side-effects had been…"

The messenger did not need to explain on that further. The elders were well aware of the side-effects of using much of those pills. Death would be the easiest one among those who would have taken past the usual amount.

"The few that had lived by taking only one or two of the pills were relatively fine aside from pains all around their bodies," continued the messenger. "But even then these men were able to track and hunt them down."

The elders were silent. They had anticipated that their campaign would not go perfectly, but they did not see the appearance of such a problem.

"We need more information…" finally murmured the middle elder. "Too many things unknown, much left in the dark." He clasped his hands together. "Send reinforcements to the Southern Quadrant and have them gather what they can on these strangers. I don't care if you have to lower the priority of the other quadrants, just get us the information that we need."

"By your command." The messenger left with his new orders.

"Much rests on our success on that island…" whispered the middle elder.

* * *

Father Gascoigne sat on a rock all alone. In his hands he held a tiny music box, an ornate and fragile little thing that nestled on his large, rough hands.

Carefully, he winded the contraption.

A clink clank of notes started as soon as he let go of the key. It played a song that he could never forget. One that he and his beautiful wife had shared a long, long time ago… back in happier times. When he still hadn't…

"Dad…?"

Alice had called out to him from behind. He was too engrossed in his memories to have not noticed her so close.

"Oh, Alice. I was just making sure this box was working properly. Don't want it to break when you and your sister use it." Gascoigne gently handed over the tiny music box. "Keep it safe now."

His daughter's small hands were clasped onto his, not letting go.

"Have you been thinking of mum again?" asked Alice, her voice filled with concern.

"Now what makes you say that?"

"Your eyes are always covered by those bandages," said Alice. "But they won't stop your tears. I can see their moist. You'll never cry for yourself, but you'll always cry for us—your family."

Father Gascoigne lightly brushes off his daughter. "A man does not cry. A Hunter, even more so."

Alice was left behind, the tiny music box held dearly in her hand.

"But a husband and a father would…"

Near the campfire where the Hunters are resting, Henryk was leaning against a rather large stump of a tree. To everyone else, they would see man in deep slumber. To Father Gascoigne, he saw idle hands that could grab the pistol by his side and fire it before a man could blink. His saw cleaver would make sure to finish off whatever it was that dared to disturb him.

"So what bothers the good Father this time?" said Henryk, still unmoving from where he rests. "Would ye care to confess to this old timer?"

Father Gascoigne sat on the stump.

The long-time partners sat back to back, with only the tree stump between them.

"You remember what I had asked before?" said Gascoigne.

"That and the countless other times you've spoken about it," grumbled Henryk. "And just like I've said all those times before, we'll take care of it then and not until then. There is no point in bringing this up over and over. You're acting more senile than I am, and we can't have that now, can we?"

"Give me your word…" continued Gascoigne. "Give me your word that you would do what is necessary when the time comes."

Henry sat up from his relaxed position, a little more tense. "For the last time Gascoigne, the beast cannot control you any longer. You've gone past that already."

"Have I?" said Gascoigne. "Have I really? Because each time I slay a beast I can feel the blood threatening to overcome me!" His hand was shaking just at the thought of it. "Just the scent of any beast sends me drooling with anticipation. You remember well what happened when I lost myself the first time, or don't tell me you've forgotten?"

"Nay, I remember…"

"Viola… she…" Gascoigne was too choked up to continue.

No more words were needed to be said. Plenty knew of what had happened that day, few cared. Henryk was one of the few that he could count on. That is why they became partners. That is why he always came to him with this request.

"Fine," grumbled Henryk irritably. "You have my word."

"Thank you."

"But know this," Henryk's tone was serious. "If death takes you before me, I shall never forgive you for that, Gascoigne. "You've wronged me once before, robbed me of what I had deserved. Do not make the mistake of embracing death before I take her."

Father Gascoigne knew well his friend spoke the truth. He considered partnering with the yellow-garbed Hunter to be one of the easiest memories he's ever had of becoming a Hunter. He knew Henryk would never say the same of their meeting, even if he was more amenable now than before.

"I'm not giving up my life, Henryk," answered Gascoigne. "My daughters are much too important to me for that. That is why I ask this favor of you."

Henryk grunted then nodded his understanding. "If anything else, you can at least count on that old crow to not give a shit of a second thought of doing you in, regardless of what we've all been through together."

Gascoigne smiled. "A tough one, that woman."

"Aye, that she is."

Their discussion was brought to an end when Father Gascoigne had suddenly stood up and began sniffing the air. He breathed in deeply, a light but pleased growl coming out from his lips.

"Beasts on approach to us," he said to his partner. "A welcome change from trying to avoid us. It looks like there's quite a lot of them, and larger ones this time."

"Up and at 'em, lads!" Henryk shouted to all the other Hunters in their camp, rousing everyone's attention, including Gascoigne's daughters. "There are beasts on the prowl and fresh blood to be had! Get your blades and your guns ready!" He looked back at his partner. "How long till they get here?"

"Not soon enough!" answered Gascoigne with a smile that bared all his teeth. He ran towards the direction of the scent of the beasts, his axe already out and extended.

"Gascoigne!"

Not heeding his partner's call, he jumped over the stream that they had camped beside, running with all his might towards the overwhelming scent of blood that only beasts that can give. He ran and ran, his own blood pulsing throughout his entire body in anticipation of another bloodbath. They were getting close, so very close!

"Hraaaagh!"

Father Gascoigne had imbedded his axe down at the very first face he saw come out of the trees. It had sunk deep into the face of one of the beasts, split its head open. More of the beasts arrive to find themselves their comrade already dead on the ground.

"Kill him!"

Gascoigne ducked as a claw swathed where his head would have been. He spun his axe and drove it directly into another beast's gut. There was another beast that came from his side that he decapitated quickly. Soon, another one was sprawled on the ground when he cleaved its legs off. Yet for every beast he slew, more came out of the forest.

It did not matter.

The blood spilt invigorated him. The blood in these beasts electrified him. The blood in his own veins thrashed to see more of the blood everywhere around him.

"Come! Show me your blood!" he shouted out in delight.

From behind him, an awakened being charged at him. But before the beast could get close to him, a shot rang out, and the creature howled in pain holding its eye. Henryk had arrived with a smoking barrel of his pistol out.

"Always the first into the fray, you damnable fool!" he said as he stood back to back with his partner. "Even if death does not take us all the same as before, the blood still would."

"Finally caught up, eh?" chuckled Gascoigne. "There is plenty of blood to be had!"

The two were surrounded by yoma and awakened beings, some of which were even as big as the Cleric Beast. It would be grueling battle for the just the two of them. Fortunately, they had help arrive soon.

"Save some for us, Dad!"

Beth had arrived with her sister and the rest of the Hunters. They came upon the beasts, firing with their guns, tearing through flesh with their blades, and crushing any that dared to appear before them.

The battle between Hunters and beasts raged on for half an hour. Bones were crushed, flesh was torn, and the blood… it flowed like a river as Hunters did what Hunters do best—to hunt! At the end of it, when the very last beast had fallen to Gascoigne's axe, the only ones who remained were the Hunters. They were not without casualty, though.

"Damnation, we lost several of our lads." Henryk was flicking away the blood that covered his saw cleaver. "We'll have to pick them up back at the city."

"Why bother?" asked Gascoigne, still reveling in the afterglow of the hunt. "Send a messenger and have them catch up to us. I don't want to waste time finding more beasts when we've come so far."

"As much as I'd like to continue our endless hunt," Henry said with much sarcasm. "Our supplies are running short. I know you sometimes forget in your blood frenzied state, but you do still use quicksilver bullets and blood vials, as the rest of us do. Those are the most essential items for a Hunter, after all."

"Che!" Gascoigne spat unhappily. He was going to disagree on that. His daughters needed those items as much as any other. "Very well, then. Let us be on our way. The sooner we get back, the sooner we can leave on another hunt."

"Think we'll see those silver-eyed Hunters from before, Grandad?" asked Beth with a smile. "Wonder if they got what they wanted from Gehrman."

"Hahaha! I doubt it, lass. I highly doubt it."

He and Gascoigne knew the first Hunter well enough to know that any answers he give would leave anyone short. He may be free of his nightmare, but he is still an old Hunter that loves shrouding everything in mystery, older than Henryk that is for sure.

Gascoigne growled as he stared in the direction where the beast had come from. He could smell a faint trace of sweet blood moving, running away from them. Its fear was mixed oh so well with its scent.

"One of them did not seem to have any intentions of joining its fellows," he grumbled.

"Leave it," said Henryk, already turning back towards their camp. "There will be plenty more to hunt later on. We'll waste too much time for a single beast."

Gascoigne did not argue. A single beast to would not sate his bloodlust and only serve to delay his hunt for more. He nor the others thought that that single beast would report what it has seen of them to its masters.

* * *

For every answer Miria received, more questions came to take their place. It has been several hours now since she had begun questioning this man called Gehrman. While he does not refuse to speak, his answers were almost always vague and unclear, filled with no lies but paints no clear picture.

From what she can decipher or whatever simple, boring questions that Gehrman saw fit to answer clearly, she understood that these Hunters mean no ill-intentions upon their island world. They are strangers in this place, but she does not believe them to be part of the mainland as well. At least… not any of the two warring factions that they've known of.

Their origins and intentions now at least painted a little bit clearer, she wanted to ask something that has bothered her and her comrades.

"Why is that man still alive?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean," smiled Gehrman, clearly playing coy with her.

"That man—the one who calls himself Isaiah," said Miria. "My comrade slew him, drove her blade through his heart. He disappeared into light. No normal human can—should have survived that."

"Hmm…" Gehrman tapped on his armchair, seemingly thinking on what to say. "That is quite the mystery now, isn't it?"

Miria frowned at him. She did not like being kept in the dark. Before and after she left The Organization, she took the answers to her questions on her own, and she will have them now.

"Explain this to me, clearly," she demanded.

Gehrman sighed. "I cannot explain what I do not understand myself."

"What? But how can that be?"

"When a Hunter is slain, he may come to dream. To the Hunter's Dream he goes, where he strengthens—emboldens his spirit. A place filled with secrets. A dream that was made by something other than human." Gehrman's appearance becomes weary; the knowing smile had before was no longer present. "A nightmare, more like…"

Miria could see that the question seemed to be taking an actual physical toll on the old man to explain. "Are you alright? Would you care to rest for now?"

Gehrman snapped out of his brooding memories to look up at her concern.

"Yes…" he quietly said. "I-I… I think its best if we discuss this another time." He appeared to be on the verge of tears. "That nightmare is long gone. No more will I watch and wait there. No more will I be chained to it. It's all thanks to that Hunter. He and the others… they freed me. Yes, I am free… finally free."

Miria couldn't help herself and patted the old man on the back who sobbed in front of her. She guessed that this is what the others had warned her about. She could not be sure if any of what he just said was truly an attempt to explain to her, or if it was all just the ravings of a sad, broken man.

It took some time until Gehrman was able to regain his composure. Miria would not be so rude and uncaring to further pry. Her most important questions have been answered. While her heart still yearned to learn a great deal more about these strangers, it was not at such great of a need that she be cruel. After all, these people were not her enemies, at least for now.

"I can't believe I let someone see me like this. Such shameful behavior. I do apologize."

"Please," Miria bowed to him. "It is I who must offer an apology. I was told your condition was not… fully restored, yet I still insisted on meeting with you."

"A kindly one, yes indeed," Gehrman said to her. "Even if I am no longer where I once was, I am still the First Hunter. I guide the young Hunters such as yourself. You are not the first to meet and ask me for my wisdom, you will not be the last. After all… I am Gehrman."

While Miria could see that he was better now, she would have to refuse questioning him. Her time here should be well spent, but since the Southern Quadrant seemed to have stabilized, she supposed she could spare a few more days here to gather more information. She'll have to send a message to Galatea of her stay here.

"Would you like me to help you back to the inn?" she asked.

"No…" answered Gehrman, his eyes once more staring at the now slightly reddening sky. "I wish to stay here and just… feel the world, so to speak."

"Very well."

Miria nodded her goodbye before leaving to pick up Cynthia and their guide. She would stay at the inn and question Isaiah and any other Hunters whilst there. Tomorrow she would see if Gehrman would be well enough to speak once more with her.

Gehrman watched as Miria left the gardens, eyes carrying a glint of curiosity. A slight smile was present on his face.

"So what do you think of them, my dear?" he questioned. "She seemed quite competent. Perhaps the others like her could be the same."

"I know not nor do I care for them," a woman's voice from behind him came. "So long as they do not seek us harm, I see no need for them to leave."

"So little interest outside that world of yours," chuckled Gehrman lightly before staring once more at the wide open sky. "I do find myself questioning the same things as she. What purpose is there in having brought us here, I wonder?"

"To do what Hunters like us do best."

"To hunt," mumbled Gehrman. "Such a simple answer…"

The woman grasped the handles on his wheelchair, pushing him slowly down into the garden.

"We need not do only one course of action," she said with a smile down at him. "A lull in between hunts and dreams would surely not detract us of our roles."

"Yes, I suppose that is true…"

Gehrman sat quietly on his wheelchair, content as he and the woman strolled together throughout the gardens peacefully. There was neither beasts nor blood around them. There was only the scent of flowers and trees. For the time being, that was all that they desired.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I make no claims of owning Bloodborne or Claymore, only the OC that appear in this fanfic. Don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

 **So I managed to get a chapter of this one out. It's not very long, but it's not the shortest I've ever put out. I'm trying to get back into the mind of this for now.**

* * *

Trekking down a mountainous path, a silver-eyed warrior eyes the skies. Her gaze was calm yet focused.

"What's wrong, Clare?"

Stopping just behind her was an incredibly fit man. He carried a large backpack that contained all of their supplies for their journey. Although, most of the supplies were actually more for him than the female warrior.

"The clouds..." said Clare. "It looks like it's going to rain soon."

"That's really too bad," sighed Raki. "I was hoping we could make it back to Rabona soon. It's going to take us a bit longer with the rain beating down on us."

Clare reached out her palm to catch the first drop of rain. "It's probably best if we find somewhere to take shelter."

The rain was more of a mild inconvenience to someone half-human like her, but her companion was entirely human, and thus, would be more than likely to be affected of the change in weather. She didn't want him to get sick, after all.

"Sorry, Clare."

"It's not your fault at all, Raki," Clare turned and gave a small smile at him. "Even if the rain doesn't really affect me, it doesn't mean I like getting myself drenched in it."

Seeing her smile made all of Raki's guilt vanish at an instant. It was these small things that he thought had made everything in his life so bearable. The recent yoma attacks had certainly made life all the more hectic for the both of them, same as everyone else.

The two were returning from cleansing a small village, somewhere up the mountainous areas of Lautrec region. Like the other Claymores, Clare had been sent to dispatch yoma that had been appearing everywhere. Raki, being her husband now, followed after her, intent on supporting her anyway he could.

"Do you think Miria and the others are doing okay?" asked Clare.

Raki chuckled at her. Her expression didn't show it, but he knew she was always worrying about the fate of her fellow Claymores. It was a part of her that he knew would never change.

And he loved her for that.

"You know they'll just get annoyed with you for always worrying like that, right?" he said. "I'm sure that they're doing just fine. You keep forgetting that they are a lot stronger than you."

Clare nodded in agreement. "I guess you're right. I just can't help feeling worried about them."

"Now you understand why I didn't want you to just leave me behind."

The very first time she had been asked to help fight yoma again since the few years of peace they had, she wanted to leave him behind in Rabona. She would leave him and just return once she had finished the job. She hadn't even told him that Galatea had asked her about it. Unexpectedly, he stood outside the city gates, fully geared and ready to go, waiting for her.

"I-It was for your own safety," stuttered Clare, slightly embarrassed at remembering that time.

"I know," Raki agreed. "But I always feel safer when I have you around."

Her face turning a deep shade of red, Clare turned around quickly so he wouldn't see it. "We should find someplace to camp soon before it starts pouring!"

She started to walk briskly away.

Raki chuckled lightly to himself at seeing his wife as shy as ever. A few drops of rain caused him to look at the dark clouds appearing overhead. He surmised that it would probably be a pretty heavy downpour from the looks of the skies.

"…I wonder when it will end?"

His mind wasn't just thinking of the rain. It was occupied by the thoughts of everything that's happened. He wondered if the fighting will ever stop. If The Organization would be destroyed by them. Or if their own lives would be the ones lost to this ceaseless nightmare.

It was a question that wasn't something he really wanted to know the answer to.

Securing and tightening up the straps on his shoulders, Raki jogged down to follow Clare. For now, at least, he would cherish the time he had together with the woman he's followed since his youth. He couldn't think of an end where she wasn't by his side, after all.

* * *

It was early morning. The break of dawn could be seen through the window of Miria's room. On the floor, the captain of the Claymore's sat with her back against the finely decorated walls of the modest inn.

Cynthia and Audrey were similarly positioned to the other corners of the room. The only one who occupied a bed was Nike, who was sprawled haphazardly over it and drooling on a pillow.

The others of her party were in a separate room together as well. While there would have been enough room if they were all going to simply sit so strictly like that and not use the beds, the owner of the establishment would likely frown upon such penny-pinching thought.

"Miria?"

Cynthia's voice had caused Miria to open her eyes. She could see that, aside from Nike, all her other comrades were wide awake now as well.

"Is there something happening?" said Cynthia concernedly.

What had disturbed their rest was the noise that their keen senses have picked up from below them, coming from the dining area of the inn. There was far too much activity than would normally be at this time of day for regular customers to be its source. Although, they couldn't really assume that the Hunters they've met were anything but regular.

"I'm not so sure," answered Miria. "But we should probably check if there's a problem."

All her comrades nodded in agreement.

"What about her?" Audrey pointed at Nike's still sleeping, still drooling face.

"It's most likely nothing serious that would require all of us anyway. Let's just let her rest a little bit longer. Anastasia, make sure to tell others in the other room to stay put."

With that decided, Miria opened the door of their room and headed downstairs together. The scent of fresh bread was in the air, so someone was most likely eating. There was however far too much talk to be a simple breakfast at such an early morning. The inn staff that she saw were barely awake themselves, so they could tell this was not a normal hour that they catered to.

"What do you mean you don't know where he is?!"

A loud voice followed by a loud bang on the table could be heard clearly. If Nike wasn't awake from earlier, she would probably most likely be awake now.

"Hush…" Miria recognized the old voice of Gehrman. "You've woken the other guests."

Miria and the others with her saw the familiar faces of Gehrman, Adda, and Isaiah at the dining area. They were not alone, however. There were several Hunters that they did not recognize who were there as well. One of which had something like a bucket with a single eyehole for a helmet. His attire was somewhat different than the rest, since his looked more like a uniform.

"And who are these?"

Miria knew this man to be the one who had shouted earlier. His fist was still on the table where splinters of wood had broken up at the force he drove down into it.

He looked at her and her comrades, the single eyehole did not lessen the intense scrutiny she felt coming from his gaze. The Hunters that had seen them before had not been as strong with their observations.

"The local Hunters, Master Valtr," said Isaiah. "They've come seeking Gehrman's wisdom."

Valtr straightened his posture and fixed his appearance. He did not seem to want to appear disrespectful to them.

"No vermin among them, I hope?"

Before Miria or her comrades could figure out the meaning of those words, Gehrman answered, "You'll be pleased to know that there are no such things present from them… at least, those of the ones we have seen."

Valtr nodded his satisfaction.

"It would seem that our actions have caused you to wake from your slumber, and my rather harsh display of emotion just now most likely have woken this entire establishment's other guests. For that, I humbly apologize to you ladies."

"It is no trouble at all," said Miria. "We've rested more than enough already. We don't require that much sleep in the first place. In truth, you've saved us much time since we didn't really wish to disturb anyone else by being up so early."

This was actually the most time they've ever fully rested in a long while. Even if they require less food and sleep than humans, Miria and her sisters have been receiving less time for any of it since the yoma attacks started. It was a welcome break, but one that still left her uneasy, thinking about the overall situation back at the other quadrants.

"Your conversation just now seemed serious," said Miria. "Is it something we can help with?"

Valtr and the other Hunters seemed uneasy about it, but Gehrman did not have any problems at all with explaining things.

"It would appear that a Hunter has been lost," he said.

Miria frowned. "He died?"

Gehrman cackled but the mood of everyone else in the room remained serious.

"No, my dear. He is quite literally lost somewhere out a bit north of here."

"And these Hunters here were supposed to have kept him close to them," Valtr gestured at the other Hunters in front of Gehrman. "A poor showing for League confederates this lot are."

"A fault not of theirs, Valtr." Gehrman's wheelchair creaked as he rolled it a little close to the table. "As they said, a large amount of beasts had appeared. Their small group had managed well enough to sustain only such little casualty."

"And lost the Hunter they were put in charge of," scoffed Valtr. "Wretched beasts or not, the few that died should have made sure that he had died with them at the very least!"

Miria was confused by this. She knew that death did not really seem to be the end for the Hunters, but to die instead of getting lost seemed entirely too much to think of as normal.

"Why are you concerned about this single comrade of yours?" she asked. "If he is a capable warrior as the rest of you, shouldn't he be able to find his own way back? Or at least it wouldn't really be that hard to find him."

Valtr gave a tired sigh before sitting down to take a seat next to Gehrman. "If we are talking about his skills as a Hunter, then I would say that rare is a beast that would likely cause him trouble. The only thing is…"

"He's gone a bit mad," finished Gehrman.

"Mad?" Cynthia asked. "Do you mean he's awakened and no longer human?"

"No, no, no!" Valtr seemed to find the idea absurd. "He'd be the last Hunter I would think to have turned into a beast. Most likely he'd spill his own blood first if it ever came to that."

"His mind is afflicted with madness," said Gehrman, a sad smile upon his face. "A foreign Hunter not of our lands, he pursued a beast… all the way to Yahrnam. In search of honorable revenge."

"What happened to him?" said Miria.

Gehrman stared her straight into her eyes. His eyes bore sympathy.

"He found it."

* * *

"Shrouded by night, but with steady stride. Colored by blood, but always clear of mind. Proud hunter of the church. Beasts are a curse, and a curse is a shackle. Only ye are the true blades of the church."

Yamamura continued to mutter in the dark as he walked on and on. The gravel and rocks beneath his feet were hard for those of ill-footing, yet he continued on nonetheless without a hint of notice of them. His body was cold and damp from the rain that showered endlessly from the skies.

"A course filled with darkness, ever the light dies. No shallow grave nor deep hole can hold. The blood of beasts shall always rise. To take their lives is our life. Hunters of the church. Blades forever stained red with blood. "

It has been several days since he was left alone. The other Hunters that had been with him were all gone. They had slain the beasts that had tried to attack them. When most of the beasts were killed, there were a few that ran. Yamamura saw them run, and so his legs moved to chase after them.

They ran and ran and ran throughout the day and the night. But Yamamura did not let them go. He was at their heels the entire time. He stuck to their trail no matter where they've gone. Through ravines, cliffs, rivers, and mountain paths. He stayed with them, clinging to their existence. So that he may end them.

One by one they fell. The first, who stumbled in its track. The second, who had turned to face him. And the last, who tried to beg him for mercy.

Beasts are tricky. They will lie and deceive you. Words they can speak are laced with truth and deception to get to their prey. End them quickly, or they will end you in turn. These are some of the teachings of the church.

"To kill the beasts is to free them of their curse. To spill their blood is to cleanse their souls." Yamamura stopped in his tracks. He stared at his trembling hands. "…But what of Hunters? Who's to free us of our curse? Who's to cleanse this impurity of our souls?"

The Hunter from an eastern land fell to his knees. His hands would not stop shaking. Raindrops petered and pattered on his Hunter's hat. The sound of it was like the pounding of drums in his ears. As was the chorus of rainfall on the pooled waters on the ground. He found it loud and hateful. It reminded him of a Hunter's gun firing over and over… forever and ever.

"I mustn't stop." Yamamura got back up on his feet and started walking once more, ignoring the illusions of his addled mind. "No, I mustn't stop. Pursue the beasts, kill the beasts. Keep going. Keep moving. Keep walking."

The Hunter had not rested for a long time now. His muscles ached, his bones felt like breaking, and his thoughts were festered with agony. Still… he kept on walking, dragging his feet through muddied ground. He looked no different from a walking corpse.

"Find more beasts and spill their blood. It won't come off. No, it won't come off." He keeps on muttering and talking to no one but himself as he goes on his path. "It doesn't show. No, it doesn't show. Accursed blood, accursed shackle. Cursed me, cursed me, cursed me."

Yamamura stumbled on a loose rock. He fell to the ground on his hands and knees, staring at a reflection of himself on a puddle of water. In it he saw a broken man. One who stared into the truth and saw the real visage of his vengeance. It's what drove him to the brink of madness.

"No…" he started to cry. "No, no, no! I have to go, I have to move…"

He tried to pick himself up, but his strength has waned. His body was exhausted from lack of rest. From fighting and running. From always moving forward.

"Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop!"

With his right leg, the sole of his foot stamped on the ground. He willed it pick his body up. He willed it to do his bidding. He begged it to allow him to push forward.

It was not to be.

Whatever strength he had put into it, left him. He collapsed on the ground, face first into the mud. The rainwater continued to pour all around him, unforgiving and relentless.

He had enough strength to turn over his body to face the darkened skies above him. His face felt the rain drops wash over his face. He reached out to the sky. He saw his hands, and they started to shake once more.

"AAAaaaaaaaaghhh!"

He shouted loudly towards the heavens as he covered his vision shut with the palms of his hand. His maddened voice did not stop until his very consciousness ceased. It was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the sound of the rain.

Somewhere in the dark silence of the last vestiges of his awareness, he heard something approach him. Footsteps ran near him. It was the last thing on his mind as he fell into deep slumber.

Standing a few feet away from his body, a silver-eyed warrior watched him. Her blade out and held in her hand. Most likely determining if he was a danger or not.

"Clare! What happened?! Why did you suddenly run out in the rain?!"

Appearing behind her, huffing and puffing from running, Raki had followed her. He saw the Yamamura's passed out form on the ground.

"Is he yoma?" he quietly whispered beside Clare.

"No."

"Let's bring him back to the cave then."

Raki immediately moved to pick up the man on the ground, slinging one arm over his shoulder. In the meantime, Clare just watched and waited vigilantly.

"Is there something wrong, Clare?" asked Raki, noticing his wife still had her sword drawn out.

"Ah, no." Clare sheathed her sword behind her and moved over to help carry the man.

Even though she felt no yoki coming from this man, she felt a strangeness to him that she couldn't put a finger on. A slight feeling of danger that had caused her to instinctively hold her sword out.

From between the two, a quiet whisper of words left the unconscious man's lips.

"…Keep moving… Keep going… Keep walking…"

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **I'll be trying to work on this story for now. My main fic is a bit stalled since I'm still thinking of how to proceed with that story. It's the problem of making a fic with something that isn't quite done yet. In the future, I'll probably stick to things that are already done, so that I can proceed with the story without much worry.**

 **If you don't recognize him, Yamamura is one of the old hunters from Bloodborne. He isn't an OC of mine. He hadn't had much of a role in the game but there was plenty of lore in it about his backstory. Like all the characters in the game, he has a pretty tragic tale to tell. I'll be sure to make it clear if I ever add OC into the story. So far it has only been Isaiah and Adda. I'll be focusing more on existing characters rather than original ones.**

 **Also, an AKG x Bloodborne fic is not part of my plans currently. I find it more interesting to do an AKG x Tokyo Ghoul one someday. And that will only be after Tokyo Ghoul has been completed.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I make no claims of owning Bloodborne or Claymore, only the OC that appear in this fanfic. Don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

 **I'll be rereading the chapter and editing it in the next few days or so. I'm still busy testing out my new PC and getting all the software up and running.**

* * *

Raki stokes the campfire within the cave, the flame crackling and dancing as it burns more of the dried wood thrown into it. He was making sure that the fire would provide enough heat for their unexpected companion that lay nearby. Outside, it was still raining pretty heavily. The howling wind that accompanied the rain could bite bitterly into one's bones just as easily as any beast's.

It has only been a few hours since they've taken him here. The man had been still in his slumber ever since. The only part of his body that had ever moved were his lips.

"Beasts… blood… darkness…"

Raki had assumed he was talking about yoma. After all, there were very few men who could face such monsters without nightmares that would plague them in their sleep. Even he, still remembers the time when he first came to know of their true danger to his life.

"Raki."

At the mouth of the cave entrance, Clare stood with her hand to the wall. She had just came back after making sure that there were no yoma nearby that had attacked the man in their care.

He gave her a warm smile. "Welcome back, Clare."

Clare nodded and took a seat beside him.

"How is he?" she asked, watching the sleeping man on the ground.

"He's healthy enough as far as I can tell," sighed Raki. "At least physically… I can't say much the same for his head though. He's been muttering from time to time about pretty gruesome stuff." From beside him, he took out a sword and showed it to her. "Must have fought with yoma before, this blade has seen a lot of use. I can smell the blood coming off of it."

In his hands was a thin, curved blade that was still in its sheath. It was dirty and a little bit grimy compared to the sword Clare used, but it seems to be well worn from use rather than neglect. Raki wasn't sure such a thin sword could cut through a yoma's tough flesh.

"Clare?"

He found the female warrior had backed away slightly from him, with her eyes narrowed and teeth showing of her half-yoma side. She looked angrily at the sword in his hand.

"Ah?!" Clare seemed unaware that she herself had taken such a reaction and promptly ceased it.

Raki approached her and asked worriedly, "What's wrong?!"

"…It's nothing," she said. "It was just that… I felt that that blade was somehow very dangerous."

"This thing?" Raki brought up the sword and blinked blankly at it. "It doesn't really look as intimidating as your sword though."

Clare frowned uneasily as she stared at the blade. "Somehow, I don't think that is a normal blade at all."

Raki could probably agree on that. Everything about the man seemed far from normal. His clothes were not any he had seen before in his travels. Yet he couldn't even see the man anything else but as a vagrant. Everything about his appearance was worn down. From the things he wore to messily cut beard on his face.

"Where do you think he came from?" he asked.

"The southern quadrant most likely." His wife took a contemplating look. "That seemed to have been the direction he came from. It's also been the worst place hit by the yoma attacks since they began."

Raki frowned. He knew of the south's condition. Frustration gnawed at him every time he thought how bad the situation was getting there without them able to do much about it. He was stronger than he was back when he was younger, but he still wouldn't be able to face an awakened being like Clare and her sisters could. Even they would need teamwork and cooperation to bring down some of the stronger ones. Normal humans can't hope to defeat such monsters by themselves.

A hand reaches out to his.

"It's going to fine, Raki." Clare looked into his eyes with confidence and determination. "We'll find a way to bring back our peace. Miria will think of something, I'm sure of it."

Raki chuckled. "Yeah. She's the one who came up with the plan to defeat The Organization from before. I'm sure she won't let things continue on like this."

Clare laid her head down on his shoulders, her gaze on the campfire as they just sat there silently passing the time by. Even without the fire right now, Raki would probably still feel warmed just from the warmth coming from her. It was moments like this that he felt he didn't regret any of pain he had gone through with her by his side.

Not a few minutes later, he felt his wife's head leave his shoulder. He saw her stand up to her feet.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Awakened beings," she answered with a frown before closing her eyes, most likely to sense the presence of yoki. "…More than a few of them." Her hand took the claymore strapped to her back. "Don't take a step out of this cave. I'll intercept them and lead them away from here."

"Wait! If there's too much of them, you can't-" Clare was out and gone before he could finish. "Dammit, Clare!"

Raki picked up his own sword, preparing to go out and find her. He couldn't just leave her all alone if she was going to act so stupidly as to sacrifice her life for his safety.

He stopped as he observed the man quietly sleeping on the ground. He didn't want to leave him behind in his state, but there was no way he could just stay behind while his own wife was out there. Solemnly, he apologized to the man before running off in the rain to find which way Clare went.

Shortly after Raki had left, the man on the ground had opened his eyes. He sat upright as he scanned his surroundings. The campfire reflected clearly on his deadened eyes. Slowly, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When his eyes opened once more they were no longer dead, but burning with a frightening purpose.

* * *

"My friend…" Valtr sat on a bench just outside the inn. In his hand he held a scroll with a list of names. There were many names on it. The names of all League confederates who has joined him in an oath bound by a single purpose. "Let not the madness consume you, Yamamura."

It was not known to many that the madman Yamamura had been one of the first to join The League that Valtr had started. Even less knew how it all began. Pursuing a beast for honorable revenge, he became a hunter of the league; a confederate.

Memories of old surface in Valtr's mind as he stared at the very first name written on his list. It was a time of great misery and sorrow for him. He sometimes wondered if he himself had not gone truly mad from back then.

Valtr was a member of a constabulary that had chased a beast all the way to Yharnam. They were young and filled with pride of their work back then. In their minds, a true constable would never leave a suspect escape no matter what. It was what continued to be at the forefront of their thoughts when they finally cornered the beast.

Those thoughts ended there…

Breathing roughly besides the belly of the beast, Valtr knelt in guts and blood. He knelt not in just that of the beast's, but those of his comrades as well. All around him strewn about, the bodies of other constables like himself was mangled and torn apart. After a long pursuit, they had indeed cornered the beast. But like they said about animals cornered, they were the most dangerous at such a time.

With no way to escape, the beast had become wild and frenzied. Without even a care to itself anymore, it attacked with reckless abandon. The constables fired their guns at it, but it ignored those and simply bit apart the men. Faced with the true reality of hunting a beast, the constables found themselves lacking. They did their best to kill the beast. To their credit, not a single one of them ran even as each faced a gruesome death not soon after the other.

When at last the beast had finally fallen, only a single constable remained. Out of all the constables with him, only Valtr survived. As he gazed over the bodies of the beast and his comrades, he finally saw how truly filthy the world truly was. The beast had eaten chunks of his friends. Arms, legs, torsos, even a head. He could hardly recognize any of them in the state they were in.

Rage like never before boiled inside him. His furious gaze had stopped over the corpse of the beast below him. His mind clouded by anger and hatred, he did not truly remember what he had done that day. Just that the people of Yharnam had seen everything from start to finish. It was on that day he was given the title of "Beast Eater."

What he only remembers then was the time after. In his hand he held a vermin. Something he must found from the beast. He crushed it with all his might. It was then that he had truly first began as a hunter of The League.

It was not long after that when he first met the man known as Yamamura…

"Thinking of times long past, Master Valtr?"

Just coming out of the inn, Adda walked over to him.

"And what makes you think that?" he asked.

Even just from the eyehole of his bucket helmet, he could clearly see the amused smile of the woman.

"What does a hunter truly think of in his idle time? There are only few things that come to mind. Blood, beasts, and of reminiscing of the past." She counted it on her fingers. "And since I see you're none too tense, I assume it is the last one."

"And what of life's contemplation?" he asked.

"We try our best not to think about it."

He couldn't refute that. Such thoughts serve to undermine a hunter's oaths and convictions when in doubt. A path that darkens the mind. It is better to reminisce of the past than to think about what the future holds, lest ye fall to the grips of madness.

"May I join you?" said Adda.

"I don't see why not."

The young Hunter sat quietly beside him. She was not a member of The League, so he knew as much about her as the rest of the others. All he knew was that she was a competent Hunter.

"Tell me, Master Valtr. Why is it that you treat Yamamura so differently from the rest of your confederates?"

It was a question that hadn't expected. After all, it was quite obvious to everyone that someone of weakened mind would be treated in a different manner than everyone else.

Valtr laughed. "If you hadn't noticed the man's condition, then I would say you'd probably be just as mad as he was."

"Even then, I don't believe you're the type of person to be so… closely involved with him." Adda was not perturbed.

Valtr's laughter died.

What she spoke of rings true. He treated his friend far too well. He was not so crass as to say that his actions were simply because he was friends with the man. No. What truly drives him is the guilt that dwells beneath the surface.

"I can't say you're wrong," he chuckled. "Coincidentally, it is the past that I had been thinking of just now." He showed her the list in his hand. "The very first hunter I recruited to The League. The very first time we had met. The time when I pushed him over the abyss that has led him to where he is now…"

He was responsible for it. There could be no other way for him to look at the result but that.

"Surely you jest."

Valtr sighed. He forgets that Hunters so young are yet lacking in some experience than the older ones.

"A Hunter's life is nothing but tragic," he said seriously. "Even if it wasn't before, it would be once he was ministered the blood. Have you ever known an exception?" He nodded to himself after seeing the frown and silence of his companion. "It is no exception to those who gather together as bands of brothers and sisters. You need only look at us old Hunters to see the truth in that. Gascoigne and Henryk, Gehrman and his students, Eileen and her crows, Djura and his group… same as you and Isaiah."

He could hear Adda's knuckles cracking as she gripped her umbrella tighter in her hand.

"You need not deny it," said Valtr. "You need not speak of it either. Tragedy rules the lives of us Hunters. It is as part of us as our blood is."

"…What of the Good Hunter?" quietly whispered Adda.

"And where is he know? Don't tell me he's in a better place, because we both know he isn't. Everyone knows." Her silence was all he needed. "But… as filthy our lives truly are, tragedy does make for a good story." Valtr carefully put away his list. "Let me tell you mine and his. After all, there is no harm done in telling an old tale."

His life as a Hunter started in Yharnam. Yamamura's started in his far eastern land. A story of love and tragedy. He, the Romeo, and she, the Juliet.

The two had experienced what many would call love at first sight. However, love could not be so easy as to let them be together just like that. They both belonged to different clans. Yamamura's was of age old warriors that were driven by martial prowess. Hers was that of the newly rising merchant clans. Needless to say, both families had an inherent dislike for one another.

There laid many difficulties for the both of them, but they were still able to marry in the end. Their happiness, however, was short lived. Yamamura was sent off by his clan to deal with a beast that had suddenly appeared close to their land. He left his wife with her clan. It was only to be a few days away to slay the beast. If he had known what would happen, he would never have left her side back then.

On approach towards his wife's family home, he saw carnage. Surviving members of the clan were wailing in despair as they claimed they were attacked by a beast. Yamamura ran into the clan estate, intent on finding his beloved. In her room, all he found were the bits of soft beautiful cloth that his wife had worn… and blood scattered all over the room. She had been eaten by the beast. Same as that of some of many other members of her clan. Even some of the survivors were not wholly intact.

Blinded by rage, Yamamura did not even have time to grieve. He acted swiftly and asked the whereabouts of the beast in question. It had fled when some of the warriors had gathered to fend it off. They too were not left uninjured. Too tired and beaten to join him, they could only point the way where the beast had run off to. Westward, they claimed.

It was the beginning of his journey to the west. He crossed seas and distant lands that the beast had gone through. Never once did he think of stopping his pursuit. Even thoughts of his dead wife did not stop him. The only thing in his mind had been the beast. Nothing else was important but that.

"It doesn't sound like his mad with grief," said Adda, cutting in on Valtr's story. "He seems a lot different than he is today."

"That's because he wasn't," answered Valtr. "Hard as it is to believe, even as madly driven as he was back then, he was still of sound mind. Well… as sound of mind as a man on a path of vengeance. He was a good conversationalist. If he wasn't so good with a sword, I would have assumed him to be a scholar."

The man Valtr had met at the streets of Yharnam was a warrior, no doubt. Standing proud and tall, Yamamura was clothed in immaculately cared for cloth of his lands. To a warrior of his clan, appearance was just as important as his sword.

It was probably the reason why the both of them had gotten along so well in the first place. As a constable, Valtr had to care well for his own appearance. He needed to look respectable if he wished to be respected. The same can be said of Yamamura.

Asking the whereabouts of a beast, Yamamura had tracked it all the way to the city of Yharnam. Hearing of a beast that has done a fellow Hunter such a crime, Valtr offered his services. As a constable and having spent more time in the city, he had many ways in finding the beast in question. He also established The League with its first ever recruit as Yamamura. This was to aid in the eradication of filth as much as to find Yamamura's beast.

In the years to come, together in pursuit of the beast, they had grown close to become friends. The city back then had just experienced an unprecedented rise in beasts. There was no shortage of things to slay and hunt. The only problem was that none of them were _the_ beast that Yamamura pursued.

"With him by my side, we went about cleansing the city of beasts and filth," said Valtr proudly. "Others soon gathered by our side, sharing our oath and our goal." His shoulders sagged. "Yet with each beast slain, Yamamura continued to grow restless. Their deaths weren't enough for him. He needed to slay _his_ beast."

"Was he not able to?" Adda asked. "Did he go mad from someone stealing his beast?"

Valtr gave a hollow laugh. "Perhaps if someone had done so, he wouldn't have lost himself so much. Maybe if I had slain the beast myself instead of him, he would be all the more better for it. Plenty of what ifs and maybes that could have possibly led him to a brighter path. But no, he fell into the dark abyss… and I pushed him there."

After years of empty leads, Valtr had finally managed to track down the beast that Yamamura had so long hunted. The reason it took so long to find was because it had secluded itself from the outside world. It had spent all its time underground. In a cell all alone. It had never taken another life nor disturbed any of the people. It merely languished in its cell.

The old crone that had told him of this had said she had seen the beast lock itself up. She was suspicious that the beast may have been preparing something ill against the citizens of Yharnam, however, it never did anything but moan and cry in its cell. The crone had never bothered telling any of the Hunters simply because there were worse beasts out there for them to find than that pathetic thing she saw. Also, in some way, she felt sorry for the beast.

It mattered not to Valtr how pathetic the beast was. A beast is a beast, and filth is filth. They are meant to be eradicated to the very last drop of blood. He soon told Yamamura of this news.

Together they prepared themselves to face the beast. Quicksilver bullets, molotovs, blood vials, and everything else, they gathered. It was all in preparation of Yamamura's long sought kill. They would not allow mistakes or it to escape them.

It was all for naught.

When Yamamura had opened the cell underground, they were expecting a fearsome beast. But like the old crone had said, the beast was pathetic. It didn't even stand on its legs as it saw them. It just continued to moan and cry on its knees, staining the wall red with its blood as it banged its head into it over and over. When Yamamura stabbed his sword into its malformed arms, it howled in pain. Even still… it did not fight. It did not even seem to be able to look at them.

While disappointed, Valtr was eager for things to end. He thought that with his vengeance fulfilled, his comrade would finally be able to devote himself to The League and its pursuits at full capacity. In the meantime, Yamamura had fallen into doubt if this was the beast he had truly hunted for all these years. The blade in his hand that had always stayed steady in all his years was trembling. He could not deliver a fatal strike for some reason.

Having lost his patience, Valtr goaded Yamamura into delivering the final blow. He brought up everything that's happened to him was all this beast's fault. That all fault and filth can be stemmed from such beasts. That his beautiful wife had been killed and devoured by the same one kneeling before him.

Yamamura's hands continued to shake. But this time, they shook with pure hatred and anger. His rage that had somewhat cooled down over the years had boiled once more inside of him. The memories of his dead wife drove his blade to cut the beast from shoulder to waist. It fell down weakly onto the cold stone floor of the cell.

Valtr spotted the vermin that spilled out of its stomach. He asked Yamamura to crush it with his boots. When all was said and done, the beast's head finally seemed to see them. The only thing it said was, "Why, my love…?" before passing away.

Looking down on the beast, Yamamura's face was cold and pale as it stared down into its dark, dead eyes. Out of the creatures tattered clothing, letters written in blood spilled to the floor. In those letters tells the tale of the beast that he slew.

Not shortly after Yamamura had left his wife, a jealous and hateful cousin of hers plotted against them. It was that man that had been responsible for the beast that Yamamura and his clan had slain from their land. It was also him that turned his wife into a beast.

Her cousin told her of bloody beasts that came from the west lands. He told her of his plans to rid their clan of Yamamura and his ilk. Their entire clan had been complicit with it. With the power of the blood, they would topple the entire caste and dominate their land. But to do so, they needed Yamamura's warrior clan to perish.

It did not say how, but the letter told of how she had taken the all of the blood into herself to prevent such a thing from happening. It turned her into a beast. She slew all those families responsible in her clan. Killed them all to the very last one. When she was done, she found herself no longer the beautiful wife that she once was. She only saw a creature of blood and slaughter… a beast.

Her mind wandered off west. It was there that her cousin told her that blood had originated from. It would mean that cure might be there for her to find. Her fate was decided though. When she came to Yharnam, there was no cure to be found. Only a clean death will cure her.

Her faith was broken and her mind devoured by the beast's blood running through her veins. Even death was preferable to living such a life. She could not bear for her husband to witness what she had become. But even so, she could not end herself. For within her, lies the life of another…

Yamamura's wife was with child when she had turned.

Even after losing her mind and turning into a beast, she could not harm the child that she carried within her. It was no longer human, but then again so was she.

"That's…" Adda covered her mouth. Tears welled up in her eyes. "The vermin that he crushed…"

"His unborn child," nodded Valtr. "Both wife and child killed by the father."

"That is simply too much!"

"Yes." Valtr did not disagree. "Yes, it was far too much. All the grief and hatred that Yamamura had carried turned into despair. It was there in that deep, dark hole that he truly lost himself." He stood up from the bench. "And I was the one that pushed him there."

Valtr knew that Adda wanted to say something to contradict it, but even she knew all too well that he was not innocent of the madman's illness. There may have been nothing to have been done to save the poor wife in the first place, but even so…

"In the end, that was not the cruelest act I've ever done to him." Valtr patted the dust from his coat. "…If you'll excuse me, it seems I remembered that I have work to be done now."

Before he was able to walk away, Adda queitly whispered, "What can possibly be crueler than that?"

Valtr paused in his steps.

"I stopped him from killing himself…" he answered before walking away without looking back.

And thus, the story of Romeo and Juliet turned far more tragic. Not with the death of both of them, but with only the death of one.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Switching between writing stories is giving me a headache. I find my writing style changing depending on the story I'm writing. I don't know if that's just really me, or it's just something in my head. Ugh.**

 **Maybe just one or two more chapters of this before I switch again to something a little light-hearted and fun for a break. Writing something so serious is nice and all, but I feel like I'll go into depression trying to finish this story all the way through without pause. I'm seriously glad the next chapter won't be too depressing... probably.**

 **Anyway, please read and review. Inform me if there is something wrong with the grammar, the story, or whatnot. I'll be editing it in the next few days.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I make no claims of owning Bloodborne or Claymore, only the OC that appear in this fanfic. Don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

* * *

Standing out in the rain, Yamamura stared at the sky. The heavens above cried restlessly, bathing the world in its tears. Yet no matter how much it rained, the blood in his hands would never come off. There was only one way to wash it off, albeit temporarily.

"I smell… beasts…"

Without further pause he ran towards the direction of prey. The slick mud of the ground splashed beneath him with every step he took. He didn't mind getting a little bit dirty. After all, he was already unclean as could be.

Which is why he needed the beast so that he may be able to cleanse himself.

Yamamura slowed down as he saw someone hiding himself underneath a fallen log. It was Raki. He had been watching the fight between Clare and the awakened beings for a few minutes now since he'd found them.

"What are you doing here?" asked Raki as Yamamura came closer. "It's dangerous. You need to head back to the cave."

Yamamura ignored him and jumped over the log. More than a few feet away from him he saw the beasts. One had three heads like a snake attached to one big body. The other looked like a malformed rat with only three legs. The last was more humanoid with a rather large but grotesque body of bulging bulbs on its skin.

The splashing of his boots on the puddles from the rain had attracted their attention. At first they glared menacingly at him, but soon their faces mellowed with glee at seeing him come close to them.

"Look!" hissed one of the three-headed snake. "A snack for us to eat!"

Clare had tried to attack them when their attention was elsewhere, however, she was far too outnumbered for her to get a clean attack. The giant awakened being swung a tree down at her and sent body crashing into the side of a rock.

Yamamura made no motion to flee.

He walked step by step without care towards the monsters. The beasts' bared their teeth in delight at this, thinking for an easy meal has come to them. To them he was nothing more than a delicious meal. The only threats to them they knew of were Claymores or other awakened beings. The man before them was none of those.

"He's mine!" shouted the rat-like beast, shoving its closer companion away and darting forth with speed.

Yamamura stared at the foul mouth of the beast that had its maw wide open to take him whole. He couldn't help but think how very dark it must truly be inside the belly of a beast.

…Still not dark enough to hide the blood on his hands.

The big rat beast crashed to the ground, Yamamura quietly standing beside it with his sword out of its sheath in his hand. He had chopped off the top of its skull as it ran toward him. It was easy enough with the beast just rushing like the mindless animal it was.

Yamamura only paused for a moment to check if the beast truly was dead before turning his attention to the remaining ones. As experienced Hunters know, even cutting off heads, hearts, and other essential body parts are sometimes not enough. Some would even go so far as to hack at the bodies over and over to make sure.

Hacking at them.

Over and over and over…

Yamamura steadied his hand that had begun to shake. He may have lost his head in a sense, but he didn't want to lose it literally right now. Who knows when he'll find these beasts again. Prey that would get lost in the rain.

The remaining beasts glared at him menacingly. Gone was their blissful mood. They were cautious of him now. It's funny how it takes a death of their own for them to take him seriously. There is no shortage of beasts that have no fear of death, though rare it is for them to jump into it.

The two beasts moved separately, one on the left and one on the right of him. They were looking for any openings that they could use to pounce on him. They had used the same tactic against the Claymore earlier, and proved effective. Granted there were now only two of them rather than three this time, but one of them at least had three heads at least, so it was more like one versus four.

Yamamura did not wait for them to strike first.

He ran towards the three headed snake beast. One of its head moved to intercept him. He cut off its slender neck in a single blow. Before he could reach the other two heads, the rat beast swung its tail at him, which caused him to dodge back and take his distance away from them.

"Hahaha!"

The beasts looked delighted.

"Looks like someone just made mistake," said the snake heads with wide open grins. "Same thing that Claymore did."

The severed neck Yamamura had cut off had started to bulge. Out of it grew two more heads. They shook off the slime that covered them and grinned, same as the others, at him.

"What now?!" they laughed at him.

Yamamura sheathed his sword. Sloshing sounds could be heard as he drove it all the way in. He felt the tingle from his hands as his blood seeped into his blade. Tinged with a Hunter's blood, Chikage felt almost twice as heavy. Never could one say that the life of a Hunter is without weight.

When the next head came for him, he sliced it off once again. This time, however, it did not grow back. And the other heads screamed in pain. They writhed and howled, the chopped off neck spraying spurts of blood all over.

"What is that?!" The beasts glared angrily at him.

"Blood…" muttered Yamamura. "My blood, a Hunter's blood, a beast's blood—what drives our dreams and nightmares and our never-ending hunts. Chikage bleeds me." His eyes stared dully at the beasts. "But it is no matter. I'll drown myself in your blood. To restore mine. To feed my sword. To wash away the blood."

The hydra swiped at him.

"The only blood spilled here will be yours!" it said to him.

Yamamura easily skipped over its flailing tail. He severed it in one slice, causing the creature to howl again once more in pain. The severed tail crashed with a splash in the muddied ground between them. Another stroke of his sword had dismembered one of its hind legs. The beast limped piteously away from him.

Its friend charged at Yamamura, trying to surprise him when he had his sights on its comrade. The bulbous creature of flesh missed. Above its head, Yamamura stood. He drove his sword deep into the creature's head. As the massive body fell, Yamamura slid his still embedded sword through the side of its waxy mangled flesh, cutting it nicely. The foul odor coming from its wounds were dampened by the falling rain.

The Hydra had taken this time to launch another attack on the Hunter. Its head went straight at Yamamura. More specifically, it went for his sword. It threw its head at him with all its might and speed, sweeping Yamamura off his feet upwards into the air. The head was gutted by the sword, however, Yamamura had lost his grip on his weapon.

"I've got you now!"

While beholden still to the slow effects of gravity, the last head bared its mouth at him. The beast salivated in its imminent victory, opening wide its mouth to swallow the Hunter. From Yamamura's woolen coat, he took something out. He angled his body midair with a twist, then, when the soft gentle press of Evelyn's barrel was against the creature's temple, he pulled the trigger.

The head and he fell back to the ground at the same time. The smoke still lingered from where his quicksilver bullet lodged deeply within the beast's head. There were no longer any sounds but the pitter patter of rain around him.

With all of the beasts now felled, Yamamura took his sword and went over to the woman laying on her side and clutching at her wound. She looked at him and he looked at her.

Claire was still in a state of partial awakening from fighting the beasts. If she hadn't done so, she would have surely died to them quickly. She was not the strongest of her sisters. Her arms and legs would never belong to someone that can be called human. Even so, the light in her eyes still gleamed with determination.

Yamamura raised his sword up. Somehow, she understood what would happen next. There was nothing Claire could do to stop him. She was unable to move due to her injuries. So she just closed her eyes, thinking that at least Raki will now be safe. The man before her killed monsters, not men.

"Stop!"

Her husband grabbed Yamamura by the waist.

"Please don't! She's not like them!"

Yamamura kicked him aside. There will be not stopping him from shedding the blood of beast. The blood he hates and the blood he needs.

"She's my wife!" said Raki as he clung to the Hunter's legs, tears spilling from his eyes. His arms hands gripped tightly on. "Please… please don't take her from me…"

"You're… wife?"

Yamamura's sword was held high above Claire's head. It didn't move a single bit. The old Hunter stared at Claire's face. The image of his own wife had suddenly interposed onto her. He could see it clearly… just exactly before he beheaded her.

"Wife…" Fond memories of a past long gone forever went past his mind. An elegant beauty so delicate that he thought the mere act of touching her would shatter her. They shared their first kiss under the falling petals of a blossoming cherry tree. Her soft tender lips and the lingering scent of her perfume seemed so fresh in his mind.

It was under that very same tree that they shared their last…

All throughout his journey from his native land, only she was always on his mind. He followed the trail of the beast he thought responsible all the way to Yharnam. Endless was his obsession with that beast. The closer he got, the stronger the memories of his wife assailed him.

How could he have known?

"Why, my love…?" The shadowed words of his beloved's last words rang in his head. The dark abyss that has set his mind into madness, he could not tear his gaze away from it. A hole where his heart once was. It was his love that pushed him forward. It was his love that had now cursed him.

Yamamura dropped his sword and fell to his knees. His hands began to shake. He could see them stained with so much blood. The blood of his wife. He wanted to wash it off, but he couldn't. Slaying beasts and spilling their blood had always hidden them before.

"I'm sorry…" He prostrated himself before Claire, sobbing and weeping. "I'm so sorry… I didn't know… please… please… I'm sorry."

Claire and Raki looked confusedly at the pathetic form of the Hunter. They could not understand the torment that he was currently going through.

Hopefully, they never will.

* * *

Eileen sat atop her crow's perch. The cold winds gently breezed through at that high place that would others would find it difficult to bear. She, however, was the least bit bothered by it. In fact, she found it pleasant. There had been far worse places she's been to that could chill her old bones to their very core. This place, aside from the few beasts they've killed, she found calm and serene. Beautiful compared to the bleak despair that was Yharnam.

With those eyes of hers she could see well the faces of those below her. She maybe old but her eyes are keener still than that of any of the young Hunters. Many a prey would feel chills run down their spines at seeing those eyes. Many a time would it be the last they see.

The people of the city mingled and went about their lives, some Hunters, here and there, could also be seen moving about. Then there were a few rare instances where some Hunters would stop and stare exactly where she was, their gaze only holding for a few moments before going on their way. It might have been eerie, but it was to be expected of much from the more experienced ones.

"And which Hunter has attracted your sights this time, Hunter of Hunters?"

Speaking of experienced ones, it would seem one had come to visit her in her own perch. Eileen didn't tear away her eyes from observing the city. She had already heard him coming some time ago. It would be hard for her to miss when there was only one way up the bell tower. She just wasn't sure who it was until he actually spoke.

"I suppose taking in the scenery is a rather fancy idea?" she cackled. "We are, after all, in a very different place than Yahrnam. Must I always be setting my sights for a new mark?"

"For any other Hunter, I could certainly believe that. For you? It seems like you've lost no humor in your jest. Or is that truly what you are doing? If so, I think I myself should rest and retire."

Eileen laughed. Finally, she looked at the Hunter standing behind her. He stood before her straight and true. A handsome man with wavy blond hair. His appearance did nothing to expose his worth as a Hunter. Men of the Executioners are hardly just pretty faces.

"You've certainly have a notion for humor as well, Alfred. You of all people to retire… how absurd. Pray tell how many would laugh at the mere idea of it."

An amused smile was on the man's face. "Don't think of it as such an impossible thing to happen. It pains me to think of my future."

"And that appears to be the problem," pointed Eileen. "You are thinking of the future. Let an old woman that's lived for so long give you a bit of wisdom. Never think of your future. It will save you much trouble in the long run, ask any of us old Hunters. You need only think of where to find the next beast to slay. Leave the future to those who have it."

Fate and life has never been kind to Hunters. It is not an easy life. It's hard to see themselves as anything else. To drop their weapons and take on the life of the common man. Such thoughts are not few, however, its more often they are driven away too easily as they come. Men and women, Hunters all, will continue the hunt whether in day or dreams.

"Adverse as always as well," chuckled Alfred. "I am curious; do you greet the new day throwing such darkness at it? Or do you merely hide in the shadows cast by its light?"

"What can I say?" Eileen turned back to watching the people below them. "I am old. I think I should be allowed to be an ornery prune. After all, what is life without misery?"

"I take it you are observing the local Hunters?" Alfred moved next to her to watch as well. "I've heard that Gehrman found them to be pleasant enough. I don't suppose you might think otherwise?"

"I don't believe I would liken them to vilebloods, if that is what you are asking." Eileen scattered some loose pebbles to the ground below. "I simply wish to watch them."

"So you'd know better when you have to hunt them," stated Alfred.

Eileen nodded. "I look at them the same as I look at all Hunters. A wolf that pretends to be a dog that guards the sheep. Only time will tell when its hunger gets the best of it. The same way I look at you as well, Alfred." Her keen eyes met with his. "If the wolves who threaten the sheep lie quiet, shall the dog dream of becoming one instead? Will it one-day wake to find the sheep slaughtered all around it with their blood and entrails on its snout?"

Alfred did not answer. He merely turned his gaze once more to the people below them, his face, pensive.

"I wonder how it would feel?" he said after a while. "The dog… or wolf, I should say. Would it feel regret, or would it feel relief?"

"Does it truly matter?" said Eileen.

"…No." Alfred stepped away from the edge. "No, I suppose not." He turned to leave, but stopped in his steps. "Was the wolf once a dog or was the dog once a wolf?"

"In my eyes… they're all one and the same," said Eileen, turning back to her observations. "The dog is a wolf and the wolf is a dog."

After hearing her answer, Alfred made for the stairs.

"Alfred?" Eileen called to him, still watching those below. "Your master… he would have been proud to see you as you are now."

"…What good does praise from a dead wolf have on a dog?"

Eileen could only sigh as she heard the echoes of his footsteps slowly recede. Grasping her mask, she removed it, turning it around to face her. Her fingers trace gently against the wood-carved mask.

"Perhaps… it feels both," she murmured to herself. "Regret that it did what it did, but relief that it need not pretend. The smell of incense coming from her mask tickles her nose. "Twisted our fates must truly be, having hunt those that might be we."

Out of the corner of her sight, a familiar face appears amongst the sea of people. A delighted smile spread on her face. Turning her mask around, she once more donned it.

"A coincidence is a chance of fate," she said. "Taking a leisurely walk should do well to dispel my dreary mood."

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **It took some time for me to finish this up. I've had to scrap it and start from scratch multiple times because I was always unsatisfied with how it turned out. I'm still not 100% satisfied with it. Out of all the stuff I've written, I would have to say that chapter with Djura and "A Monster's Innocence" are the only ones that I've been truly happy with how they turned out.**

 **I'll be practicing writing some other things that may or may not be fanfiction to research how I was even to write those. I'll leave this for now. Hopefully I can find what it was that made me write so well.**

 **As always, read, review, and tell me if there's something wrong with the grammar and such. I'll see if I can correct it.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I make no claims of owning Bloodborne or Claymore, only the OC that appear in this fanfic. Don't sue me, I'm really poor.**

* * *

Doll carefully arranged the flowers she had picked. There was a faint smile on her lips, apparently satisfied with how it turned out. She knelt before the gravestone and reached out, her delicate fingers tracing the engraved letters upon the stone.

Like many of the gravestones around her, this one had belonged to a Hunter she once knew. She prayed for him. As she always did for every single grave in the Hunter's Dream. The other Hunters did not know why she did so.

And yet…

They could not bring themselves to rebuke her for it. Perhaps they found some small solace that at the very least, upon passing from this world of dreams and beasts, there would be someone to pray for them. Even if that someone was just a doll.

Doll closed her eyes.

Slowly she stood and tilted her head towards the perpetual night sky of her world. Opening her eyes, she saw the large and bright surface of the moon hanging right above her.

"Good Hunter?" she said. "You stir from your dreams. Will you finally wake? It has not been long since your slumber, but I do miss you so. Will you soon come back to me? My heart aches to see your face once more."

An unusual warm breeze caresses her cheeks. The touch of it upon her face brings a slight smile from her. Even as he slept, he seemed to be comforting her without the need for words.

"Very well," she answered, seemingly content. "I shall wait. I shall wait for as long as you need me, because I will always be there for you."

She clasped her hands in prayer. The moon in the sky momentarily brightened, basking its glow upon this world of perpetual night and dream. The white flowers scattered throughout seemed to copy that radiant moon light, including those Doll had placed on the graves. It was a moment that made such a bleak and dark place transcendently beautiful with resplendent light.

"As you desire, I shall wait to welcome you home, Good Hunter," whispered Doll. An indescribable feeling of joy built up inside her. "As it is my desire as well…"

* * *

In the black darkness of nothingness, there appeared a sound. It echoed throughout this void of shadows with a clear ringing. What was once empty, is filled with this sound.

It was the loud chime of a bell.

It chimed once. Then twice. Then Thrice.

It's ring resounded all throughout, haunting and swaying. The bell rang, called, and beckoned.

It continued to ring repeatedly for some time. Soon, the frequency of its ringing slowed down, as if the ringer finally seems to be getting tired. It finally ended with one final loud ring.

It's final ring seemed to last forever through the vast empty void, searching and pleading for an answer. That ring dimmed as it reached the end of its journey, its volume slowly going down until not a note could be heard it no longer; making way for hollow and empty silence to, once again, claim its place.

A pity, a shame.

Then, surprisingly, a small resonant sound appeared, seemingly lighter than the first bell.

But it was clear.

Something had heard the call. And it answered.

It answered clearly with a small voice. One. Then two. Then three.

The resonating sounds of more and more bells began to ring through the darkness. They chimed repeatedly in discord, never once stopping until the void was filled with their notes. They clamored and rang as if hoping to hear from the first bell once again.

Until finally…

"Welcome back to the waking world."

Gehrman inhaled deeply as he saws the face that greeted him. Her face was pale. Oh, so very pale. Her skin seemingly free of flaws and imperfection like that of a porcelain mask. Her lips small and tender. So very much like that of a doll.

Her eyes, however, held a glint of warmth to them.

"You slept so soundly," she said. "Did you have a pleasant dream?"

"It was…" Gehrman rubbed his chin, trying to think back on it. "It was fleeting. My memory of it… fades, as quickly as I wake. It's quite unlike anything I've experienced before."

"Are you well?" His dear Maria held his shoulder in concern. No doubt she thought the experience had shaken him.

"I do not find it disturbing," smiled Gehrman, holding on to her hand. "Maybe this is how dreams should be, ephemeral and hard to remember. I very much prefer it this way."

"I am glad," said Maria. "I could sense your… discomfort in needing to sleep."

"Indeed," Gehrman nodded. He looked out the window of his modest bedroom to see the orange glow of the rising morn. "You don't need to dress your words around me. I was afraid. Scared of the thought of dreaming. I had even feared to blink my eyes when I first awoke, dreading that that too would cause me to fall back into that endless dream…"

"But you did not." Maria gently cupped his chin and stared into his eyes. "You are here. You are awake. And you are with me."

"I know, my dear." Gehrman wasn't sure if he had ever felt the emotions he had as he did then. "I know."

Gehrman had lost many in his path as a Hunter. He lost his friends, his family, his city… He lost a great deal many things. He had lost Maria.

Even losing his own self.

The thought that had most occupied his mind from that time was the thought of when it would finally all end. When would he be free? It might have been then that he'd also lost his will. Stuck in a never-ending dream, continuing to lose more and more. Piece by piece until he had nothing more to lose.

"…I wasn't so sure I'd wake to see the sun rise," said Gehrman.

"We shan't waste this moment then." Maria stepped behind his wheelchair and grabbed its handles. She leaned over and said to him, "There should be a better view outside this dreary room. You do not oppose this, correct? After all, was it not you who said that I spent much too confined and isolated?"

"That is true." A small grin made its appearance on the old Hunter's face. "I am told that I am a poor conversationalist, but please keep this old Hunter company for a bit longer, if you'd kindly."

Maria gently pushed him outside of his room.

"…I am here for as long as you need me," she whispered.

* * *

Nike furrowed her brows.

She had taken a walk by herself away from the inn. Her other sister's had advised her against this since they still felt wary of the Hunters, however she had always been more restless compared to them. Being cooped up in such a tiny place made her feel caged.

This was the reason why she was now roaming the streets of Diaemus. It was certainly a place more vibrant and colorful than Rabona. Although she still met a few people that looked uneasily at her, it would seem that most were somewhat accepting of her. This, however, was not what made her furrow her sharp brows.

There were Hunters here and there wherever she went. They did nothing more than glance at her passing, however, Nike had never felt so uneasy, even compared to the complete hostile looks that humans had given her during the days of The Organization. When she was with her sisters, the feeling was less obvious.

"Feeling frail, young one?" a familiar voice calls her out from her thoughts.

Beside her was the old woman they had encountered when they had first arrived. An odd woman wearing a crow's mask, black clothing and a feathered cloak.

"Mustn't lose your nerves around others," she said. "Make it clear you are a Hunter, not prey."

"You're that old woman from before," said Nike.

"Just an old crow," she answered, "by the name of Eileen."

Nike felt somewhat reluctant, especially after her sisters had commented about the scent of blood coming off this old woman. She did not know whether to just leave or not, but Eileen had given her no reason to. She seemed perfectly nice to her.

"…I'm Nike."

"Nike…" worded Eileen, as if engraving the name to her mind. "It is fancy meeting you once again. Although, this city isn't all that large compared to Yahrnam, so I suppose it wouldn't be unimaginable. Would you care to accompany this old woman on her stroll?"

"I… don't really think I should." Nike could already hear Anastasia's nagging in her thoughts of her fellow Claymore.

"Come now," insisted Eileen. "Are you to leave a lonely old woman to walk the streets by herself? I'm sure you'd like to see much of this city yourself, would you not?"

"Hmm…" Nike was unsure. Thinking about the consequences of her actions had never really been a strong suit of hers. This seemed to be benign enough. After all, Cynthia was also with a Hunter showing her around. "Sure, I guess. Why not?"

Eileen chuckled. "Much appreciated, keeping this old woman company. It makes quite a change of pace having someone to walk with."

"Don't you go with those other… Hunters?" asked Nike as they started to walk.

"Most Hunters prefer to hunt alone. Some take a partner or form groups, but the rest are usually far more introvert in their ways. Although, that began to change recently." Her voice seemed unsure. Nike wasn't sure if it was good or bad. "Who could have known that a single Hunter could change things so very much, and so quickly?"

"Isn't that better?" said Nike. "I mean, I enjoy fighting by myself a lot, but I'd still rather have my sisters have my back."

"It could be…" Eileen didn't seem confident in her answer. "Though new problems will arise from it."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say there are many reasons why Hunters prefer to hunt alone," said Eileen darkly.

Nike could feel the weight behind those words. She did not pry any further. Even she could understand that there are just things that had to be kept private from others.

"I find it surprising to see such… uniformity between you and your fellow Hunters," said Eileen. "Not since the peak of the Church Hunters have I seen such drive from a group such as yours."

"We're warriors," said Nike. "Not Hunters. My sisters and I grew up together. I guess maybe that's why we're very close to each other." Her days of training with the others passed through her mind. "The Organization taught us to fight yoma. Every day was nothing but training." Although those days were harsh, she smiled. "It was tough, but at least we had each other. Anastasia can be annoying at times, though. She always has this haughty attitude whenever I messed up."

"You sound fond of her."

"No way!" quickly denied Nike. "She always nags at me. Although, I guess it's probably because I deserved it." She deflated a bit after admitting. "She always was the better one. It's kind of hard not to feel like I'm dragging her down."

"Feeling inadequate, are we?" said Eileen, amused. "I find such emotion to be refreshing. For better or for worse, that is a good feeling. Remember it well. The time when you feel you are adequate, consequence shall rid you of it. And when it does, it does so violently and without mercy."

"Feeling a lot less inadequate and a lot more worried now."

Their wanderings soon led them to a secluded area beneath one of the inner city walls. The light of the sun seemed to be unable to pierce through because of the high towers sectioned around it. It made the place damp and cool.

"This place…" Nike scrunched her nose.

"Aye," nodded Eileen. "T'would appear we've located a beast's old nest."

This place was one of the locations where yoma had hid and taken their preys to. The stench of blood and death seemed to rise from the ground itself. Dark patches on the ground could easily be bloodstains from victims.

"You don't need to worry." Eileen crouched, taking a bit of the soil in between her fingers. "The beast no longer lives. There are none that reside here in this city anymore. Hunters made sure to purge it thoroughly."

"It doesn't change the fact that they killed so many people here," Nike said through gritted teeth.

She couldn't help but feel so frustrated and helpless. This wasn't the first time she found a place like this. There had been others. Many of them were a lot worse off when the yoma had not bothered with hiding their presence. The slow or lack of response from the warriors had left many to do as they pleased.

"Maybe if I was stronger…" Nike was gripping her fists so tightly that they began to bleed.

Eileen was silent. She gave a sigh after a while.

"A single Hunter can only do so much," she said. "That was what he said to us."

Nike blinked, unable to understand.

"Even the strongest and the best of us had admitted to that," continued Eileen, her voice seem to echo her past. "Not without trying, no one can deny that. No matter how strong, no matter how fast, no matter how much he hunted, he was only a single Hunter. Even one such as he who would tear the moon itself. He cannot save everyone alone." She looked at Nike. "Which is why he had asked for help."

"What?"

"I remember when he came to me," she cackled. "I've never had a Hunter come beg to me on his knees for anything more than his life. I had known him when he first came to Yahrnam. I'd seen how strong he had grown. I've considered how I would hunt him if he had turned." Her amusement seemed to die down somewhat. "My chances of living through that were… slim. Very slim. Yet, I've never once thought he would be the kind to come begging on his knees."

Nike stood silent.

"That man… he was strong. Yet for all his strength, he still found himself… inadequate." Eileen chuckled. "Laughable. I suppose it was how he'd succeeded. He had gathered Hunters to his cause. To his hunt. To end it all. To end the dream. Although, I can't say he came out unscathed from it."

"What are you saying?" asked Nike.

"Just recounting another tale of woe for us Hunters," dismissed the old crow. She looked at the surroundings. "Given time, this place will lose the stench of blood."

As Eileen took the alleyway back to the main streets, she barely mumbled, "…But there are places where blood will forever linger."

Nike stood there alone, in the center of that stained place. She thought there was something profound in the story she'd been given. It may take a while for her to truly comprehend it, but she'd think about it until she did.

"Come now, dearie!" Eileen's voice called out to her, waiting from outside that place. "We've much places to be and losing daylight."

"Ah, wait up!" Nike gave one last look at the place before chasing after the old crow.

* * *

"Are the preparations almost finished?" asked a hooded figure.

"Only several more days before we are ready," said a burly man that knelt before him.

"Good."

The Organization had been busy with the new intel that they had received from the surviving Awakened Being that returned to them. There had been much deliberation and confusion amongst their ranks in the arrival of these _new/old_ warriors that they had not encountered before.

Their reaction could be said to be extreme.

"Now is the time to truly start our war in this place." The hooded figure stood from his seat and raised his arms. "The Claymores shall fall, and these troublesome beings with them."

* * *

Irene knelt atop a tree branch, hidden from view by the leaves and smaller branches from those she observed. Her keen silver eyes surveyed the mass of activity in a valley below.

Awakened beings and yoma spread across a large clearing in the valley. There were thousands of them moving about. It was a literal army of monsters. There were just so many of them gathered. She had never seen so many before. But that was not the most disturbing thing to her.

What truly sent chills down her spine was that these monsters seemed to be organized.

She could see clearly that some of the monsters were directing others among the groups. They lined up and nodded their heads as if following orders. There were no infighting between the them like what would be commonly seen among yoma and awakened beings that worked together. It was as if these ones were well-trained soldiers.

In at least one small measure of comfort, Irene found that the ones below seemed to have a weaker yoki than most awakened beings she had encountered. Although, she did not know which she'd have preferred to fight: A strong but disorderly force, or a weaker but vastly more disciplined monster troops?

At the very least, she could not feel the presence of anything like an Abyssal One among them. If there was such an enemy to lead them…

Irene shook her head. There would be plenty of time to think of such things once she returned to Rabona. For now, she had to make sure that her Clare and her sisters are informed of this massive force building up so close to them.

It took her some time before she reached a makeshift campground shielded by a large rock formation facing east. She was sure that she was undetected in her surveillance, however, she still chose to make sure that she wasn't being followed.

"How fare the beasts down below?"

Djura stood atop the rock above her. No doubt he'd been keeping a vigilant watch for anything that got too close to them. He let gravity take its course and fell from that height, landing without making too much of a noise on his feet.

Irene was, once again, reminded that this man—this Hunter, was closer, if not the same, as she and her sisters. There was difference surpassing that of humans and resembling that of beasts.

"They look just about the same as ones I've encountered before, but…" Irene could clearly understand that there was a big difference from all those. "They appear to be… organized. Much more so than any even those that had been under an Abyssal One's control."

"Organized, you say?" Djura muttered, rubbing his beard. "Much more than a pack of beasts?"

"Like an army."

"Curious."

Both of them had never seen nor heard of such a thing happening before in their lives hunting monsters.

"They don't seem ready to leave the valley straight away," said Irene. "Nevertheless, we should probably hurry to Rabona. I have no doubt that that is their destination. There can be no other reason for them to hide so close by. How is the girl?"

The now orphaned girl slept nearby, the journey having worn her out even though they had been going at a slow pace to make it easy on her.

"Slept about an hour or two ago," said Djura. "Seeing as we must make haste, I suppose I will have to carry her the rest of the way." He moved to where she was and gently carried her small body in his arms. "I'll try not to wake her. Young girl like her needs her rest."

Irene nodded, moving to pack the few items they had around the camp.

They moved swiftly across the forest terrain. Even with the girl in Djura's arms, he was able to keep up with Irene as she led the way, making sure there was no danger ahead as he had his hands occupied. The little girl slept soundly without a stir.

At the pace they were going, they should arrive at their destination without more than half a day passing.

However, Irene still felt that it was still too long. Her sister's will need all the time they need to prepare themselves against this army waiting at their doorsteps. She just prayed that they had enough warriors at Rabona to defend it.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Not much for me to say. Been busy and all that.**

 **Be sure to tell me if there any mistakes or whatnot. I'll try and correct them when I have time. Make sure to read and review.**


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